UCS8  UBRAM 


•••;  /, 


PLAYING  SANTA  CLAUS, 


Other  Cliristmas  Tales, 


BY 

MRS.   S.  P.  DOUGHTY. 


BOSTON: 

1ST  I  C  H:  O  L  S      ^NT)      1STOYES 

1865. 


BOSTON: 

PRINTED     BY     CHARLES     H.     CROSBY, 
Koi.  11  &  13  Water  Street. 


CONTENTS. 


Page. 

PLATING  SANTA  CLAUS 7 

NOTHING  TO  GIVE 19 

WILLIE'S  GOLD  DOLLAR 30 

THE  THANKSGIVING  PABTY 40 

A  CHRISTMAS  STORY 48 

APRIL  FOOL'S  DAY 61 

THE  CHRISTMAS  TREE 70 

A  DREAM 77 

No  TIME  LIKE  THE  PRESENT 87 

THE  LITTLE  MATCH  BOY 104 

I  FORGOT .  123 

THE  SILVER  MORNING  AND  GOLDEN  DAT     .  151 


PREFACE. 


A  MERRY  Christmas  and  a  happy  New  Year  to  you, 
dear  children  !  This  little  volume  comes  to  you  as  a 
holiday  gift,  and  in  its  pages  we  have  endeavored  to 
show  you  that  true  and  lasting  happiness  can  be  found 
only  in  doing  good  to  others.  Let  the  lesson  sink  deep 
into  your  hearts.  Even  the  least  among  you  can  do 
much  good.  Look  around  you.  Do  not  wait  for 
some  great  opportunity  to  offer,  but  with  willing  hearts 
and  busy  hands  perform  the  most  trifling  acts  of  use- 
fulness to  others.  Continue  to  do  this  throughout  the 
year,  and  we  will  promise  you  that  Avhen  another  New 
Year  dawns  upon  the  earth,  you  will  look  back  with 
rejoicing,  giving  thanks  to  your  Heavenly  Father  that 
you  have  found  that  true  happiness  which  can  never 
be  taken  from  you. 


PLAYING  SANTA  CLAUS. 


"  WAKE  up,  wake  up,  Emma ! "  said  little  Caroline 
Meredith,  as  she  gently  shook  her  sister  very  early 
one  winter's  morning ;  "I  have  something  very  pleas- 
ant to  tell  you." 

'•What  is  it,  Carrie?"  answered  the  sleepy  little 
girl,  as  she  rubbed  her  eyes,  and  tried  to  comply  with 
her  sister's  request  to  "  wake  up." 

"Do  you  remember  what  day  it  is,  Emma?  To- 
morrow will  be  Christmas ;  and  this  evening  will  be 
Christmas  Eve." 

"  O  Carrie,  so  it  will ! "  exclaimed  Emma,  now 
fully  awake ;  "  and  we  shall  hang  up  our  stockings ; 
and,  oh,  what  beautiful  things  Santa  Glaus  will  bring 
us!" 

"  And  what  fine  times  we  shall  have  to-morrow  !  " 
continued  Caroline.  "Aunt  Margaret  and  all  our 
cousins  are  coming  to  dine  with  us." 

"  Oh,  it  will  be  delightful !  "  replied  Emma.  "  We 
can  show  them  our  presents,  and  perhaps  they  will 


PLAYING    SA^TA    GLAUS. 

bring  theirs  to  show  to  us  ;  and  we  shall  play  so  hap- 
pily together ! " 

"And,  you  know,  I  have  made  a  needle-book  to 
give  Aunt  Margaret ;  and  you  have  a  work-bag  for 
her,"  added  Caroline.  "  I  am  sure  she  will  be 
pleased." 

"  I  know  she  will,"  said  Emma  ;  "  and  father  and 
mother  will  be  pleased  with  the  little  presents  we 
have  got  for  them.  I  like  to  give  things  away ;  don't 
you,  Carrie  ?  " 

"  Yes,  very  much,"  replied  Carrie.  "  I  should  like 
to  be  Santa  Claus." 

"  0  Carrie  !  what  a  funny  Santa  Glaus  you  would 
make ! "  exclaimed  Emma ;  and  both  of  the  little 
girls  laughed  heartily  at  the  idea. 

"  How  I  would  come  tumbling  down  the  chimney, 
with  my  bag  full  of  toys  !  "  continued  Caroline.  "  I 
would  fill  your  stocking  just  as  full  as  it  could  be, 
Emma." 

Emma  laughed  again ;  and  then  she  was  silent  for 
a  few  moments,  and  looked  very  thoughtful. 

"  Do  you  think  Santa  Claus  fills  the  poor  children's  ' 
stockings,  Carrie?"  she  asked. 

Carrie  looked  grave  also,  as  she  replied, — 

"  I  don't  know,  Emma.  I  would  fill  their  stockings 
if  /were  Santa  Claus.  But,  Emma,"  she  continued, 
after  a  short  pause,  "  you  know  there  is  not  really  any 


PLAYING   SANTA   CLAUS.  9 

such  person  as  Santa  Glaus.  It  is  our  father  and 
mother,  and  other  kind  friends,  who  fill  our  stockings." 

"  I  know  that,  Carrie ;  and  this  makes  me  afraid 
that  the  poor  children  do  not  have  their  stockings 
filled ;  because,  you  know,  their  friends  have  no  money 
to  spend  for  toys  and  pretty  presents.  Don't  you  think 
it  would  be  a  good  plan  for  every  rich  child  to  be  a 
Santa  Glaus  to  some  poor  child  ?  " 

"  0,  yes,  Emma  !  "  exclaimed  Carrie  ;  "  I  think  it 
would  be  a  beautiful  plan.  How  came  you  to  think 
of  it  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  know,  Carrie  ;  but  I  suppose  the  good 
angels  whispered  it  to  me.  You  know  mother  says 
that  all  our  good  thoughts  are  from  the  angels." 

"  Well,  that  is  a  good  thought,  I  am  sure,"  replied 
Carrie  ;  "  and  I  am  very  glad  that  our  father  is  rich, 
so  that  we  can  play  Santa  Glaus.  And  then  it  is  very 
pleasant  to  live  in  such  a  handsome  house,  and  have 
such  nice  clothes  and  playthings  ;  don't  you  think  so, 
Emma  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  do,"  answered  Emma  ;  "  and  I  always  feel 
sorry  for  poor  little  children,  who  have  none  of  these 
good  things.  You  know  little  Mary  and  Ellen  Dray- 
ton  ?  Their  mother  is  very  poor." 

"  I  know  she  is,  Emma ;  but  she  always  seems 
cheerful,  and  the  little  girls  look  very  happy.  How 
neat  and  clean  they  always  look !  " 


10  PLATING  SANTA  CLAUS. 

"  Yes,  Carrie :  but  their  clothes  are  very  old  and 
patched ;  aud  they  have  very  few  books,  and  no  play- 
things but  one  rag  baby.  When  mother  sent  me  there, 
the  other  day,  to  ask  Mrs.  Drayton  about  doing  some 
work  for  her,  I  stopped  a  few  moments  to  talk  to  the 
little  girls." 

"  Let  us  be  their  Santa  Glaus,  if  mamma  is  willing," 
said  Carrie.  "I  have  got  two  little  gold  dollars  that  I 
will  spend  for  them." 

"  And  I  have  two  more,"  added  Emma.  "  I  meant 
to  have  bought  a  large  doll ;  but  I  would  rather  give 
the  money  to  Mary  and  Ellen." 

The  little  girls  now  hastened  to  dress  themselves, 
that  they  might  go  to  their  mother,  and  tell  her  of 
their  plan,  and  ask  her  consent  to  spend  their  money 
in  the  way  that  they  proposed. 

Mrs.  Meredith  was  quite  willing,  and,  indeed,  she 
was  much  pleased  that  her  little  daughters  had  thought 
of  a  way  in  which  they  might  do  good  and  give  plea- 
sure to  others  ;  and  she  said  that  she  would  add  two 
more  gold  dollars  to  theirs,  and  would  go  with  them  to 
buy  the  gifts  for  Mary  and  Ellen. 

After  breakfast  was  over,  she  talked  a  little  more 
with  them  on  the  subject,  and  told  them  that  it  would 
not  be  best  to  spend  all  the  money  for  books  and  toys, 
because  the  little  girls  were  much  in  need  of  warm 
clothing,  and  it  would  be  doing  them  more  good  to  buy 
some  things  of  that  kind. 


PLATING   SANTA   CLAUS.  11 

Caroline  and  Emma  were  willing  to  do  as  their 
mother  thought  best ;  but  they  begged  her  to  buy  a 
few  books  and  toys,  because  they  thought  it  would 
make  the  little  girls  so  happy.  They  felt  very  happy 
to  find  that  six  dollars  would  buy  so  many  things. 
There  was  not  only  a  pretty  dress  for  each  little  girl, 
and  some  warm  stockings  and  shoes,  but  also  a  dress 
for  Mrs.  Drayton  ;  and  there  was  still  money  enough 
left  for  two  pretty  books,  two  dolls,  and  some  other 
toys.  To  these,  Mrs.  Meredith  proposed  that  Caro- 
line and  Emma  should  add  some  of  their  own  books 
and  playthings,  which  they  could  well  spare  ;  aud  she 
said  that  she  had  several  articles,  which  would  be  use- 
ful to  Mrs.  Draytou,  which  she  would  put  with  those 
they  had  bought. 

The  little  girls  could  hardly  contain  their  delight 
when  they  saw  all  these  nice  presents  packed  in  one 
large  basket,  and  another  one  filled  with  tea,  sugar, 
pies,  cakes,  a  roasted  chicken,  and  some  other  articles 
of  food,  that  Mrs.  Drayton  and  her  children  might 
have  a  good  Christmas-dinner. 

Carrie  and  Emma  were  so  happy  that  they  could 
hardly  wait  for  evening,  that  they  might  play  "  Santa 
Clans,"  as  they  called  it ;  and  they  quite  forgot  to 
think  about  the  pretty  presents  which  they  hoped  to 
receive  themselves,  because  they  were  so  busy  in 
thinking  of  the  joy  that  Mary  and  Ellen  would  feel 
when  the  baskets  should  be  unpacked. 


12  PLAYING  SANTA  CLAUS. 

"  Let  us  try  to  be  patient,  and  wait  until  the  girls 
have  gone  to  bed,"  said  Carrie.  "  Mrs.  Drayton  sits 
up  very  late  to  sew  ;  and,  if  mother  will  let  John  carry 
the  baskets  for  us,  we  will  go  and  knock  softly  at  the 
door,  and  give  her  the  things,  and  ask  her  to  put  some 
of  the  toys  into  Mary's  and  Ellen's  stockings.  How 
surprised  they  will  be  in  the  morning  ! " 

Emma  readily  agreed  to  this  plan ;  and,  as  the 
house  was  very  near,  Mrs.  Meredith  was  quite  willing 
that  they  should  do  so. 

We  will  now  leave  them  to  pass  a  happy  afternoon 
in  assisting  their  mother  in  some  preparations  which 
she  wished  to  make  for  the  entertainment  of  the  young 
friends  whom  they  expected  to  spend  Christmas  with 
them,  while  we  take  a  peep  into  Mrs.  Drayton's  neat 
but  humble  dwelling. 

Mary  and  Ellen  were  seated  close  by  the  side  of 
their  mother,  who  was  sewing  busily  on  a  pair  of 
coarse  overalls, — the  last  of  a  dozen  pairs  which  she 
had  engaged  to  make.  Mary  had  learned  to  sew 
neatly  enough  to  be  of  some  assistance,  and  her  mother 
had  just  given  her  leave  to  hem  the  bottom  of  one  of 
the  legs  of  the  overalls  ;  while  little  Ellen  was  reading 
aloud  from  a  story-book,  which  had  been  given  to  her 
at  school  as  a  reward  for  her  good  behavior.  The 
story  which  she  was  reading  was  a  Christmas-tale ; 
and  it  told  of  a  happy  family  of  children  who  gathered 
around  the  beautiful  Christmas-tree. 


PLAYING  SANTA  CLAUS.  13 

When  Ellen  had  finished  her  story,  she  laid  down 
the  book,  and  seemed  very  thoughtful  for  a  few 
minutes.  Presently  she  looked  up  in  her  mother's 
face,  and  said,  very  gently, — 

"  Will  you  please  to  let  us  hang  up  our  stockings 
to-night,  dear  mother  ?  This  is  Christmas  Eve.  I 
should  like  a  pretty  tree  like  the  one  in  the  story  ;  but 
it  will  be  just  as  pleasant  to  hang  up  our  stockings. 
Don't  you  remember  the  pretty  things  that  we  found 
in  them  one  year,  Mary,  a  good  while  ago,  when 
father  lived  in  this  world  with  us  ?  " 

Mrs.  Drayton's  eyes  filled  with  tears ;  and  Mary 
whispered, — 

"  Hush,  Ellen  !  you  grieve  poor  mother." 

"  No,  dear,  she  does  not  grieve  me,"  replied  Mrs. 
Drayton,  making  an  effort  to  speak  calmly  and  cheer- 
fully. "  You  may  hang  up  your  stockings,  my  chil- 
dren ;  but  you  must  remember  that  mother  has  no 
'  pretty  things  '  to  put  in  them.  The  weather  is  now 
becoming  very  cold,  and  you  are  in  need  of  many 
articles  of  clothing,  which  I  am  working  hard  to  try 
to  procure  for  you.  I  shall  take  these  overalls  home 
this  evening ;  and,  if  I  get  the  money  which  I  have 
earned  by  making  them,  I  will  try  to  put  something 
useful  into  each  stocking :  but  you  must  not  expect  to 
find  toys  or  candies." 

Mary's  countenance  brightened  as  she  exclaimed, 
2 


14  PLATING  SANTA  CLAUS. 

"  O  mother !  I  shall  like  a  new  apron  better  than  a 
toy ;  for  I  have  worn  mine  so  long,  and  it  looks  so 
very  shabby." 

But  little  Ellen  looked  sorrowful  as  she  said,  "  I 
wish  you  could  buy  just  one  stick  of  candy,  mother, — 
only  one ;  half  for  Mary,  and  half  for  me." 

"  "Well,  dear,  I  will  try  to  do  so,  as  it  is  for  Christ- 
inas," answered  Mrs.  Drayton  ;  and,  at  this  reply, 
Ellen's  face  was  also  bright  with  smiles. 

Evening  soon  came :  and,  as  their  mother  was 
obliged  to  leave  them  alone  while  she  carried  home 
the  work  which  she  had  finished,  the  little  girls  con- 
cluded to  hang  up  their  stockings,  and  go  to  bed  early, 
so  that  they  need  not  feel  lonely  while  she  was  gone. 
They  were  soon  fast  asleep,  and  dreaming  of  the  new 
aprons  and  the  stick  of  candy  which  they  Avere  to 
receive  the  next  morning. 

When  Mrs.  Drayton  promised  her  children  these 
things,  she  did  not  feel  the  least  doubt  that  she  should 
be  able  to  keep  her  promise  ;  for  the  man  for  whom 
she  had  been  working  always  paid  her  very  punctually, 
and  on  this  night  he  would  owe  her  nearly  two  dollars. 
Of  this  sum,  a  large  portion  must  be  spent  for  food 
and  fuel ;  but  there  would  be  enough  left  to  buy  an 
apron  for  each  of  the  little  girls,  and  the  stick  of  candy 
which  Ellen  so  much  desired. 

"  Poor  children !  it  is  not  often   that  I  can  spend 


PLATING  SANTA  CLAUS.  15 

even  one  penny  for  them,  except  to  purchase  what 
is  really  necessary,"  thought  Mrs.  Drayton,  as  she 
entered  the  shop  where  she  was  to  leave  the  work. 
To  her  great  disappointment,  there  was  no  one  there 
but  a  young  lad,  who  told  her  that  his  employer  had 
gone  away  for  the  evening. 

"  You  can  leave  the  work,"  he  added,  "  and  call 
again  any  day  after  Christmas.  Mr.  Williams  will 
settle  with  you." 

Mrs.  Drayton's  heart  was  very  sad  as  she  silently 
placed  her  bundle  upon  the  counter  and  left  the  shop. 
She  had  but  six  cents  in  the  world  ;  and  this  must  be 
spent  for  a  loaf  of  bread,  or  her  little  ones  would 
suffer  for  food  on  Christmas  Day,  when  they  expected 
to  be  so  happy. 

Her  eyes  filled  with  tears  as  she  passed  the  groups 
of  merry  children,  and  heard  them  talking  so  eagerly 
of  the  expected  pleasures  of  the  next  day,  and  thought 
of  the  empty  stockings  which  her  own  darlings  would 
find  when  they  awoke  in  the  morning.  But  she  was  a 
good  woman ;  and  she  tried  hard  to  put  away  these 
sad  feelings,  and  to  believe  that  the  Lord  would  do 
what  was  best  for  her  and  for  her  children. 

';  I  cannot  buy  the  aprons,"  she  said:  "but  I  will 
take  a  loaf  of  bread  which  was  baked  yesterday, — 
that  will  cost  but  five  cents ;  and,  with  the  penny 
which  remains,  I  will  buy  the  stick  of  candy.  That 
will  comfort  them  a  little." 


16  PLATING  SANTA  CLAUS. 

She  went  into  the  baker's  shop  for  the  loaf;  and 
the  woman  in  attendance,  who  had  often  seen  her 
before  with  her  two  little  girls,  handed  her  two  cakes, 
saying  kindly, — 

"  Your  children  will  like  a  cake  for  Christmas." 

Mrs.  Drayton  thanked  her,  and  walked  homeward 
with  a  lighter  step  ;  for  this  would  be  such  a  treat  to 
the  little  ones,  that  they  would  almost  forget  the 
promised  aprons. 

The  last  penny  was  spent  for  the  candy ;  and  she 
gently  opened  her  own  door,  and  entered  noiselessly, 
lest  she  should  disturb  the  sleeping  children. 

"  It  will  be  but  a  poor  Christmas,"  she  said,  as  she 
opened  a  small  cupboard,  and,  placing  the  bread  in  its 
accustomed  place,  looked  around  upon  the  scanty  por- 
tion of  food  which  ii,  contained  ;  "  but  we  shall  not 
really  suffer  from  cold  or  hunger,  and  this  should 
make  us  very  thankful." 

As  she  said  this,  she  heard  a  low  knock  at  the  door ; 
and,  hastening  to  open  it,  she  was  surprised  to  find 
Caroline  and  Emma  Meredith,  accompanied  by  John 
bearing  two  large  baskets. 

"  Have  Mary  and  Ellen  gone  to  bed  ? "  inquired 
Carrie,  eagerly. 

"  Yes,  they  are  both  asleep,  miss ;  but  I  can  awaken 
them,  if  you  wish." 

"  Oh,  no  !  "  was  the  reply  ;  "we  wanted  them  to  be 


PLAYING  SANTA  CLAUS.  17 

asleep,  and  so  we  waited  as  long  as  we  could.  "We 
are  playing  Santa  Claus  ;  and  we  have  brought  some 
things  for  you  and  the  girls." 

"  And  we  want  you  to  put  some  in  their  stockings," 
continued  Emma.  "  Did  they  hang  them  up  ?  " 

"  They  did,  indeed,  my  dear  young  lady ;  but  I 
little  thought  that  they  would  be  filled.  I  spent  my 
last  penny  for  one  stick  of  candy  to  divide  between 
them." 

"  Oh  !  there  is  plenty  of  candy,  and  toys  also,  in  the 
baskets,"  replied  Emma.  "  Fill  the  stockings  full ; 
and  tell  Mary  and  Ellen  that  Santa  Claus  sent  them." 

Mrs.  Drayton's  heart  was  almost  too  full  to  speak 
as  they  wished  her  good-night ;  and  she  could  not  help 
weeping  with  joy  as  she  unpacked  the  baskets,  and 
saw  all  the  good  and  useful  things  which  they  con- 
tained. 

The  stockings  were  soon  loaded  with  toys  and  books, 
and  papers  of  cakes  and  candies ;  the  cupboard  was 
well  filled  with  articles  of  food ;  while  the  new  clothes 
were  spread  upon  a  chair,  where  the  children  could 
see  them  when  they  awoke. 

You  may  be  sure  it  was  a  merry  Christmas  morning 
both  at  Mrs.  Meredith's  and  Mrs.  Drayton's. 

Carrie  and  Emma  were  full  of  joy,  not  only  from 
receiving  a  variety  of  beautiful  presents,  but  from  the 
thought  of  the  pleasure  which  Mary  and  Ellen  would 
2* 


18  PLATING  SANTA  CLAUS. 

feel  when  they  found  their  stockings  so  well  filled. 
And  breakfast  had  not  long  been  over,  when  the  two 
little  girls  came  hand  in  hand,  with  sparkling  eyes  and 
hearts  full  of  gratitude,  to  thank  the  young  ladies  for 
their  kindness. 

"  Oh,  we  never  saw  so  many  pretty  things  !  "  ex- 
claimed Ellen.  "  Mary  and  I  are  so  glad,  and  we 
thank  you  so  much  !  Mamma  cried  when  she  saw  us 
jump  and  laugh  so  much  when  we  awoke  this  morn- 
\ng ;  but  she  said  she  cried  because  she  was  glad  too, 
and  not  because  she  was  sorry." 

"  Yes,  she  was  very,  very  glad,"  said  Mary.  "  We 
needed  all  the  things  very  much  ;  and  poor  mamma 
had  no  money." 

Mrs.  Meredith  and  Carrie  and  Emma  felt  very 
happy  as  they  listened  to  these  expressions  of  the  chil- 
dren's gratitude  and  joy ;  and,  when  Mr.  Meredith 
heard  the  story,  he  said  he  would  send  a  load  of  wood 
and  coal  to  Mrs.  Drayton,  that  he  might  have  his 
share  in  "  playing  Santa  Glaus." 


NOTHING  TO  GIVE. 


"  A  HAPPY  New  Year  to  you,  Lottie  !  "  exclaimed  a 
bright-eyed  and  neatly  dressed  little  girl,  as  she  tapped 
at  the  door  of  a  small  apartment  in  the  second  story 
of  a  large  dwelling-house  which  was  occupied  by  a 
number  of  poor  families. 

The  summons  was  answered,  and  the  greeting  re- 
turned, by  Lottie  herself,  who  proved  to  be  a  pleasant- 
looking  little  girl  of  about  the  same  age  as  the  visitor. 

"  A  happy  New  Year  to  you,  Miss  Emily !  "  she 
replied ;  "  and  thank  you  for  calling  to  see  me  so  early 
in  the  morning.  Will  you  walk  in  ?  " 

"  No,  thank  you,  Lottie  :  for  I  have  several  places 
to  go  to  ;  and  I  must  be  at  home  in  good  season. 
Mamma  says  that  this  is  the  day  for  the  gentlemen  to 
make  calls,  and  the  ladies  must  stay  at  home ;  but  she 
gave  me  leave  to  call  upon  you,  and  three  or  four 
other  little  girls  who  go  to  sabbath  school  with  me. 
Here  is  a  New-Year's  gift  for  you,  Lottie.  Is  your 
mother  well?" 

(19) 


20  NOTHING   TO   GIVE. 

"  Oh  !  thank  you,  Miss  Emily.  Yes,  my  mother  is 
quite  well.  She  will  be  here  in  a  few  moments." 

"  I  will  call  and  see  her  another  time.  Good  morn- 
ing, Lottie !  "  And,  with  a  kind  smile,  Emily  ran 
quickly  down  the  steep  stairs;  and,  in  another  moment, 
Lottie  heard  the  street-door  close  after  her. 

The  "  New-Year's  gift "  which  she  had  handed  to 
Lottie  was  contained  in  quite  a  large  and  neatly  folded 
parcel ;  and  the  little  girl  hastened  to  close  the  door 
of  the  room,  that  she  might  examine  it  at  her  leisure. 

She  placed  it  upon  the  table,  and  untied  the  string; 
but  still  she  did  not  feel  quite  willing  to  unfold  the 
paper  until  her  mother  returned  to  share  her  pleasure. 

She  had  not  long  to  wait :  for,  just  then,  a  step  was 
heard  in  the  entry  ;  and  her  mother  entered,  with  a 
small  basket  on  her  arm,  containing  a  few  articles  of 
daily  food  which  she  had  been  purchasing. 

The  paper  was  quickly  unfolded  now ;  and  a  neat 
hood  and  shawl,  with  a  pair  of  warm  mittens,  soon 
appeared. 

Lottie  clapped  her  hands  with  delight.  "  Miss 
Emily  brought  them  to  me,  mother !  "  she  exclaimed. 
"  Is  she  not  very  kind  ?  Now  I  can  go  to  sabbath 
school  all  winter ;  for  my  frock  and  shoes  are  quite 
good  yet :  but  my  thin  cape  and  my  straw  hat  were 
very  cold." 

"They  were  indeed,  my  child,"  replied  Mrs.  Wilton 


NOTHING   TO    GIVE.  21 

(Lottie's  mother)  ;  "  and  I  am  very  grateful  to  the 
young  lady  and  her  mother  for  their  kindness  in  send- 
ing you  these  warm  garments.  This  is  a  happy  New- 
Year's  Day  for  you." 

Very  happy  did  Lottie  feel,  and  bright  as  the  sun- 
shine was  her  face,  for  some  minutes :  but  then  a 
shadow  seemed  to  come  over  her  glad  spirit ;  and, 
after  a  little  thought,  she  said,  almost  sadly,  "  How 
very  happy  Miss  Emily  must  be  to  be  able  to  give 
such  nice  presents  to  poor  people,  mother!  How  I 
wish  I  had  something  to  give !  " 

"  And  have  you  nothing,  Lottie  ?"  asked  Mrs.  Wil- 
ton, kindly. 

"  Nothing  at  all,  mother.  You  know  we  are  so 
poor,  that  we  need  everything  we  have  for  ourselves." 

"  We  are,  indeed,  quite  poor,  Lottie  ;  but  that  need 
not  prevent  us  from  giving  to  others.  You  cannot  go, 
as  Miss  Emily  does,  and  carry  warm  garments  to 
those  who  are  poorer  than  yourself;  but  still  you  may 
do  much  for  their  happiness  and  comfort.  Give  them 
the  love  that  is  in  your  little  heart ;  and  you  will  soon 
find  that  you  have  no  reason  to  say  that  you  have 
nothing  to  give." 

"  But  love  will  not  do  them  any  good,  mother,"  per- 
sisted the  little  girl.  "  I  want  to  be  able  to  make 
New- Year's  gifts  to  those  who  are  in  want." 

"  Give  them  your  love,  and  you  will  often  find  that 


22  NOTHING  TO   GIVE. 

the  gifts  will  come  of  themselves,  Lottie,"  replied  her 
mother.  And,  as  she  spoke,  Lottie's  countenance 
brightened  ;  and  she  exclaimed, — 

"  0  mother !  I  know  what  I  can  do,  if  you  are 
willing.  I  can  give  a  part  of  my  breakfast  to  those 
two  little  children  up  in  the  third  story ;  for  you  know 
they  are  a  great  deal  poorer  than  we  are." 

"  I  think  they  are,  Lottie  ;  and  you  may  divide  your 
breakfast  with  them,  if  you  please.  And  here  is  a 
New-Year's  cake  that  the  baker  gave  me  for  you  when 
I  went  for  the  loaf  of  bread." 

"  Such  a  nice  large  one !  and  so  pretty ! "  said  Lottie, 
as  she  looked  admiringly  at  the  figures  upon  the  cake. 
"  I  can  give  a  part  of  this  to  the  children,  mother." 

"Very  well:  now  eat  your  own  bread,  and  then 
you  may  go  with  theirs.  So  you  will  have  the  plea- 
sure of  making  one  New-Year's  gift  this  pleasant 
morning ;  and  if  you  keep  your  heart  filled  with  love, 
and  all  your  servants  busy  in  helping  you  to  make  this 
love  useful  to  others,  you  will  find  many  opportunities 
to  make  gifts  before  the  day  passes  away." 

;-  My  servants,  mother  !  "  exclaimed  Lottie.  "  Who 
are  they  ?  " 

Mr.-.  Wilton  smiled,  as  she  replied,  "  You  have  two 
bright  eyes,  Lottie ;  and,  with  these,  you  can  look 
around  for  those  who  are  in  need  of  your  assistance. 
You  have  two  quick  ears  with  which  to  hear  their 


NOTHING   TO   GIVE.  23 

wants  ;  ami  you  have  hands  and  feet  which  will  cheer- 
fully work  at  your  bidding." 

The  shadow  had  quite  gone  from  Lottie's  heart  and 
irom  her  face  :  for  she  now  began  to  see  clearly  what 
her  mother  meant ;  and  she  had  already  formed  many 
little  plans  for  doing  good. 

A  large  portion  of  her  own  breakfast  and  of  the 
tempting  cake  were  given  to  the  hungry  little  children  ; 
and  their  joy,  and  the  eagerness  with  which  they  ate 
the  food,  showed  that  the  gift  was  a  most  acceptable 
one. 

The  next  hour  was  passed  in  assisting  her  mother : 
for,  as  Lottie  justly  observed,  "  Mother  ought  to  have 
a  New- Year's  gift  as  well  as  other  people ; "  and  the 
only  thing  she  could  give  her  would  be  a  little  more 
help  than  usual.  ** 

Mrs.  Wilton  was  glad  to  find  her  room  in  neat 
order,  and  to  be  able  to  sit  clown  to  her  sewing  at  an 
early  hour:  for  she  was  making  some  garments,  which 
she  had  promised  to  have  completed  Avithin  a  few  days; 
and,  if  they  were  ready  at  the  promised  time,  she  was 
to  receive  extra  pay. 

"  And  now,  mother,"  said  Lottie,  "  I  will  take  the 
basket,  and  try  to  find  some  bits  of  wood  around  the 
new  buildings.  Perhaps  I  shall  find  some  one  to 
whom  I  can  make  a  New-Year's  gift  while  I  am 
gone." 


24  NOTHING  TO   GIVE. 

"  I  have  no  doubt  you  will,  dear,"  replied  Mrs.  Wil- 
ton ;  and  Lottie  ran  merrily  away,  while  her  mother 
employed  her  hands  very  busily,  and  her  thoughts  no 
less  so  :  for  Xow-Year's  Day  brings  many  recollec- 
tions,— both  sad  and  pleasant  memories  of  years  gone 
by.  Mrs.  Wilton  thought  of  the  time  when  she  had 
a  kind  husband  to  love  and  care  for  her,  and  when  a 
fine  manly  boy,  some  two  or  three  years  older  than 
Lottie,  was  among  her  household  treasures.  Both 
husband  and  son  had  long  since  passed  to  the  spiritual 
world  ;  and  the  poor  widow  was  now  obliged  to  work 
hard  for  the  support  of  herself  and  her  little  girl.  But 
she  had  a  cheerful,  uncomplaining  spirit ;  and  she 
trusted  with  full  faith  in  our  heavenly  Father,  who 
never  forsakes  the  widow  and  the  fatherless. 

The  little  that  she  could  "earn  with  her  needle  was 
not  always  sufficient  to  supply  them  with  necessary 
comforts  ;  but,  as  yet,  they  had  never  suffered  from 
cold  or  hunger.  Often  their  most  pressing  wants,  as 
in  the  case  of  Lottie's  hood  and  shawl,  had  been  unex- 
pectedly supplied  ;  and,  thankfully  acknowledging  the 
Providence  which  watched  over  them,  the  widow 
Avorked  away  steadily  and  cheerfully,  with  little  anx- 
iety for  the  future. 

But  we  must  accompany  little  Lottie,  as  she  bounded 
merrily  alo'ig,  with  her  basket  in  her  hand.  The  first 
object  which  attracted  her  attention,  when  she  reached 


NOTHING   TO   GIVE.  25 

the  new  buildings,  was  an  old  woman,  bent  nearly 
double  with  infirmity  and  age,  slowly  endeavoring  to 
gather  a  few  of  the  chips  which  lay  scattered  upon  the 
ground. 

"  Poor  old  creature  !  "  thought  Lottie,  pityingly,. 
"  I  have  a  great  mind  to  fill  her  basket  before  I  do 
my  own.  There  are  not  many  children  picking  up 
chips  this  morning :  and  I  shall  find  enough,  I  dare 
say." 

"  I  will  fill  your  basket  for  you,"  she  said  kindly, 
as  she  drew  near  to  the  woman  ;  "  and  you  can  sit  on 
these  boards,  and  rest." 

The  old  woman  looked  surprised,  and,  at  first, 
seemed  a  little  afraid  to  let  Lottie  take  the  basket. 
Perhaps  she  thought  she  might  run  away  with  the 
pieces  she  had  already  collected  ;  for  some  children 
are  wicked  enough  to  do  such  things.  But,  when  she 
looked  in  the  little  girl's  pleasant  face,  all  her  fear 
went  away ;  and  she  gladly  rested  herself  upon  the 
boards,  while  Lottie's  busy  hands  and  feet  worked 
briskly  until  the  basket  was  well  loaded  with  the  nice 
dry  chips. 

"  Have  you  far  to  go  ?  Shall  I  help  you  to  carry 
it  ? "  asked  Lottie,  as  she  placed  the  load  at  the  old 
woman's  feet. 

"  You  are  a  good  child  ;  and  I  thank  you,"  was  the 
reply.  "But  I  am  well  rested  now,  and  can  get  home 
3 


26  NOTHING   TO    GIVE. 

by  myself.     Make  haste,  and  fill  your  own  basket. 
Good-by  !  and  may  God  bless  you !  " 

Lottie's  heart  was  very  glad,   as   she  watched  the 
old  woman  moving  quickly  along  with  the  basket. 
4  "  She  walks  quite  fast,"  she  said  to  herself.     "  I  am 
so  glad  that  I  helped  her,  and  gave  her  time   to  rest ! 
Those  chips  were  a  nice  New-Year's  gift  for  her." 

After  half  an  hour  of  patient  labor,  Lottie  succeeded 
in  filling  her  own  basket,  and  set  out  on  her  return 
home. 

As  she  turned  into  the  street  which  led  to  her  own 
dwelling,  she  saw  a  richly  dressed  lady  upon  the  side- 
walk, a  little  in  advance  of  her.  Lottie  looked  ad- 
miringly at  her  velvet  hat,  and  the  soft,  warm  furs, 
and  splendid  silk  dress. 

••  "What  a  happy  lady ! "  she  said  to  herself.  "  What 
beautiful  New-Year's  gifts  she  can  make  i  " 

As  Lottie  said  this,  a  rich  lace-veil,  which  had  been 
lightly  thrown  over  the  lady's  hat,  fell  upon  the  side- 
Avalk  ;  and  the  owner  passed  on  without  observing  her 
loss. 

"  Stop,  ma'am  !  please  stop  !  "  called  the  little  girl, 
as  she  placed  her  basket  upon  the  stones,  and  ran 
quickly  along,  with  the  veil  in  her  hand. 

"Thank  you,  my  child,"  said  the  lady,  as  she  turned 
around  in  answer  to  Lottie's  repeated  calls.  "  I  should 
have  been  very  sorry  to  have  lost  my  veil.  Here  is  a 
quarter  of  a  dollar  for  you." 


NOTHING   TO   GIVE.  27 

"No,  thank  you,  ma'am,"  returned  Lottie,  blushing 
deeply.  "  I  do  not  want  any  pay.  I  am  glad  that  I 
found  your  veil.  It  is  New-Year's  Day ;  and  I  like  to 
have  something  to  give  people." 

"  Well,  you  have  made  me  a  beautiful  present," 
replied  the  lady,  smiling;  "  for  I  should  certainly  have 
lost  my  veil  if  it  had  not  been  for  you.  But  why  may 
I  not  make  you  a  little  gift  in  return  ?  " 

Lottie  still  shrunk  from  taking  the  money  ;  and, 
after  a  moment's  thought,  the  lady  ceased  to  urge  her, 
and,  after  inquiring  the  number  of  her  residence,  bade 
her  "Good-morning  !  "  and  walked  on;  while  the  little 
girl  took  up  her  basket  of  wood,  and  hastened  to  her 
mother. 

Mrs.  Wilton  listened  with  delight  to  her  account  of 
the  adventures  of  the  morning,  and  sympathized  with 
her  pleasure  in  having  already  made  three  or  four 
New-Year's  gifts. 

"  And  now,  mother,"  said  Lottie,  "  I  will  help  you 
to  sew ;  and  by  and  by,  if  you  will  give  me  leave,  I 
Avill  go  and  read  one  of  my  pretty  books,  that  the 
teacher  gave  me,  to  that  little  sick  girl  in  the  next 
street.  Don't  you  remember  I  told  you  about  her? 
She  used  to  come  to  sabbath  school." 

"  Yes,  I  remember  what  you  told  me,  Lottie.  You 
may  go  to  see  her  this  afternoon.  And  now  I  have  a 
long  seam  for  you  to  sew." 


28  NOTHING   TO    GIVE. 

"  I  am  glad  that  I  can  sew  neatly  enough  to  help 
you,  mother,"  said  Lottie  ;  and  in  a  few  moments  she 
was  seated  at  her  mother's  side,  sewing  away  as  busily 
as  Mrs.  Wilton  herself. 

The  afternoon  visit  to  the  little  sick  girl  proved  a 
very  pleasant  one ;  and  Lottie  came  home  with  the 
delightful  consciousness  that  she  had  done  much  good, 
and  almost  made  the  little  sufferer  forget  her  pain. 

"•  This  has  been  a  happy,  happy  day,"  she  said.  "  I 
wish  every  New-Year's  Day  would  be  like  it." 

"  All  days  may  be  much  like  it,  my  dear  child," 
replied  her  mother,  "  if  you  continue  to  find  happiness 
in  doing  good  to  others.  You  will  not  again  complain 
that  you  have  '  nothing  to  give.'  " 

"  No,  indeed,  mother  ;  for  I  have  found  that  even 
poor  people  like  us  have  many  things  to  give  which 
make  others  happy.  And  you  know,  mother,  I  gave 
something  even  to  that  rich  lady." 

"You  did,  indeed,  dear,"  answered  Mrs.  Wilton, 
smiling.  "  And  now  go  to  sleep,  and  dream  of  your 
happy  day." 

Lottie's  dreams  were  very  pleasant,  you  may  be 
sure ;  and  her  mother  saw  her  smile  many  times  in 
her  sleep,  as  if  the  angels  were  whispering  to  her  in 
their  words  of  love. 

The  next  day  brought  a  visit  from  the  lady  who 
had  lost  the  veil.  She  had  not  forgotten  little  Lottie  ; 


NOTHING   TO    GIVE.  29 

and  now  came  to  inquire  into  Mrs.  Wilton's  circum- 
stances, and  to  offer  her  assistance  if  she  was  in  need. 
A  kind  friend  she  proved  to  the  widow  and  her  child  ; 
and  they  often  thought  with  thankfulness  of  the  day 
when  Lottie  picked  up  the  veil,  rejoicing,  in  her  sim- 
plicity, that  she  had  something  to  give. 
3* 


WILLIE'S  GOLD   DOLLAR. 


"SuCH  beautiful  toys!  such  beautiful  toys!"  exclaimed 
little  Willie  Duncan,  as  he  clapped  his  hands,  and 
capered  about  the  room  with  delight. 

It  was  a  bright,  frosty,  Christmas  morning  ;  and 
Willie  had  just  taken  down  the  stocking,  which  he  had 
carefully  hung  in  the  chimney-corner  the  evening  be- 
fore, in  the  hope  that  some  kind  friend  would  play  the 
part  of  Santa  Glaus  for  him. 

His  hope  was  not  disappointed :  for  the  stocking 
was  found  most  bountifully  filled ;  and  Willie  eagerly 
hastened  to  examine  its  contents.  It  was  fortunate 
that  he  had  borrowed  his  grandfather's  long  stocking 
for  the  occasion ;  for  his  own  little  sock  could  never 
have  contained  the  beautiful,  large  humming-top,  and 
the  pretty  Noah's  ark,  which  now  met  his  eyes.  And 
then  the  large,  soft  ball,  just  right  for  playing  in  the 
house  in  stormy  weather ;  and  the  nice  transparent 
slate,  with  which  Willie  could  amuse  himself  when 
the  older  folks  wished  him  to  be  quiet.  All  these 
(30) 


WILLIE'S  GOLD  DOLLAR.  31 

things,  and  many  more,  were  safely  packed  away  in 
grandpa's  great  stocking.  Papers  of  candy,  stores  of 
nuts  and  almonds,  and  pretty  little  lady-apples,  came 
to  light  as  Willie  continued  his  search ;  and  last  of  all, 
in  a  tiny  wooden  box,  was  found  a  bright  gold  dollar. 

"  I  am  sure  grandpa  must  have  put  that  in  himself," 
said  Willie ;  "  for  I  saw  a  gold  dollar  in  his  deskr 
drawer  yesterday.  But  oh,  mother !  did  you  ever  see 
so  many  pretty  things  ?  Am  I  not  very  happy  ?  " 

"  I  hope  so,  indeed,  my  dear  boy,"  answered  Mrs. 
Duncan,  smiling  ;  "  but  pretty  things  do  not  always 
make  us  happy." 

"  Not  unless  we  are  good,  you  mean,  mother.  But 
I  will  try  to  be  good.  Only  look  at  this  humming- 
top  ! " 

"It  is  a  fine  one,  Willie.  Here  is  a  cord.  Try  if 
you  can  spin  it." 

The  top  was  soon  whirling  merrily  upon  the  floor, 
and  humming  so  loudly  that  Willie  had  to  clap  his 
hands  once  more  ;  and  even  baby,  who  was  pillowed 
up  in  his  crib,  unpacking  his  own  wee  little  stocking, 
dropped  the  china  pussy-cat,  which  he  had  just  taken 
out,  and  stretched  his  little  hands  toward  the  top, 
crowing  with  delight. 

But  now  mother  said  that  both  Willie  and  baby 
must  put  by  their  toys,  and  be  dressed  for  breakfast ; 
and  she  gave  Willie  a  basket  to  put  all  his  new  treasures 


32  WILLIE'S  GOLD  DOLLAR. 

into,  that  he  might   carry   them    down  stairs  easily, 
and  exhibit  them  to  his  father. 

"  And  what  will  you  buy  with  the  gold  dollar, 
Willie  ? "  asked  Mr.  Duncan,  after  he  had  examined 
and  admired  all  the  pretty  gifts. 

Willie  looked  very  thoughtful  as  he  replied,  "  I 
should  like  to  do  some  good  with  it,  father.  I  think 
I  ought  to, — do  not  you  ?  " 

"  We  ought  always  to  try  to  do  good,  Willie ;  but  I 
am  not  sure  that  I  quite  understand  what  you  mean." 

';  I  heard  you  say  the  other  day,  father,  that  we 
should  love  to  share  with  others  the  blessings  which 
the  Lord  gives  to  us." 

"That  is  right,  my  son  :  I  did  say  something  of  the 
kind." 

"  Well,  father,  I  have  a  great  many  blessings  this 
morning, — all  these  pretty  toys ;  and  so  I  think  I  ought 
to  spend  the  gold  dollar  for  other  people." 

"  I  am  glad  you  think  so,1  Willie.  And  who  would 
you  like  to  spend  it  for  ?  " 

"  If  you  are  willing,  father,  I  should  like  to  give  it 
to  lame  Georgie  to  buy  a  book.  He  told  me,  a  few 
days  ago,  that  he  wanted  very  much  to  buy  a  book 
called  '  Hollo  at  Work,'  because  there  is  a  story  in  it 
about  a  lame  boy  named  Georgie,  just  like  him.  You 
know  Georgie's  father  is  poor ;  and  I  do  not  think  he 
can  spare  the  money  to  buy  a  book.  May  I  give  him 
my  dollar,  father  ?  " 


WILLIE'S  GOLD  DOLLAR.  33 

"  Certainly,  Willie :  you  may  take  it  to  him  as  soon 
as  you  have  eaten  your  breakfast." 

Willie's  eyes  sparkled  with  delight.  His  breakfast 
was  quickly  eaten,  and  his  warm  comforter  and  mit- 
tens put  on. 

"  May  I  go  to  the  bookstore  and  buy  the  book  for 
Georgie,  if  he  wishes  me  to,  mother?"  he  asked  ;  "  and 
may  I  stay  with  him  a  little  while  ?  " 

Mrs.  Duncan  readily  granted  her  permission;  for 
although  Georgie's  father  an:l  mother  were  poor,  yet 
they  were  very  worthy  people,  and  had  taught  him  to 
be  an  obedient,  good  boy,  so  that  Willie's  parents  were 
quite  willing  that  he  should  sometimes  go  to  play  with 
him. 

Willie  found  Georgie  sitting  in  his  usual  seat  by  the 
fireside,  with  a  small  stand  placed  near  him,  on  which 
were  a  little  box  and  a  new  gimlet. 

"  O  Willie,"  he  exclaimed  joyfully,  as  Willie  entered, 
"  I  am  so  glad  you  have  come !  Only  see  what  nice 
Christmas-gifts  I  have  got!  Father  bought  me  this 
new  gimlet ;  and  a  kind  lady,  who  comes  to  see  my 
mother  sometimes,  sent  me  this  pretty  dissected  map. 
I  have  been  playing  with  it  all  the  morning." 

As  Georgie  spoke,  he  opened  the  box  which  stood 

upon  the  stand,  and  showed  Willie  that  it  contained  a 

map  of  the  world,  cut  into  small  pieces,  which  could 

all  be  neatly  fitted  together.     Willie  had  several  maps 

3 


34  WILLIE'S  GOLD  DOLLAE. 

of  this  kind  at  home ;  and  he  was  just  going  to  say 
that  he  did  not  think  this  was  much  of  a  present,  and 
to  tell  Georgie  how  many  pretty  toys  he  had  received, 
when  he  remembered  that  it  would  not  be  kind  to  do 
so  ;  and  he  said,  pleasantly, — 

"  It  is  a  very  pretty  map,  Georgie  :  I  am  glad  the 
lady  gave  it  to  you.  And  what  a  nice  gimlet !  You 
can  bore  large  holes  with  this." 

'^Yes,"  replied  Georgie:  "you  know  I  have  a  small 
one  ;  and  I  have  wanted  a  large  one  for  a  long  time. 
But  tell  me  about  your  presents,  Willie  ;  for  I  am  sure 
you  have  had  a  great  many." 

"  Yes,  I  have  had  a  good  many,"  answered  Willie ; 
"  and  I  have  brought  one  of  them  to  you." 

So  saying,  Willie  took  out  the  little  box,  which  con- 
tained the  gold  dollar,  and  handed  it  to  Georgie. 

"What  a  pretty  little  box!"  said  Georgie  :  "I  never 
saw  so  small  a  one  in  my  life.  Thank  you,  Willie  ! " 

"  Open  it,  Georgie  !  "  exclaimed  Willie,  laughing  : 
"  it  has  got  your  new  book  in  it." 

"  My  new  book ! "  said  Georgie  :  "it  must  be  a 
very  small  one,  then.  O  Willie,  what  a  beautiful  gold 
dollar !  "  he  exclaimed,  as  he  took  off  the  cover.  "  Do 
you  mean  to  give  all  this  to  me  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Georgie  :  it  is  to  buy  the  book  that  you  want 
so  much." 

"  You  are  very  kind,  Willie  !     I  shall  be  so  happy 


WILLIE'S  GOLD  DOLLAR.  35 

to  have  that  book  !  I  wish  I  could  walk  to  the  book- 
store, and  I  would  go  for  it  this  minute." 

u  I  can  go,"  replied  Willie.  "  Mother  gave  me 
leave  ;  and,  when  I  come  back,  we  will  read  the  book, 
Georgie,  and  I  will  tell  you  all  about  my  presents ;  for 
I  can  stay  with  you  a  while." 

Georgie  was  very  glad  to  hear  this ;  and  "Willie 
took  the  gold  dollar,  and  ran  joyfully  away. 

He  very  soon  returned,  with  the  much-wished-for 
book  in  his  hand. 

"  Here  it  is,  Georgie,"  he  said  ;  and  here  is  a  half- 
dollar  in  change  :  that  is  enough  to  buy  another  book, 
if  you  wish." 

"  But  I  think  you  ought  to  keep  the  half-dollar, 
Willie.  This  book  is  enough  for  you  to  give  me.  I 
am  sure  I  am  very  much  obliged  to  you." 

"  Oh,  no,  Georgie  !  I  meant  to  give  you  the  whole 
dollar.  Shall  I  run  back  to  the  bookstore,  and  buy 
another  Hollo  book  ?  There  are  a  great  many  different 
kinds." 

Georgie  thought  for  a  moment ;  and  then  he  said, — 

"  No,  Willie  :  I  think  it  would  not  be  right.  I 
have  my  new  map,  my  gimlet,  and  this  pretty  book  :  I 
am  very  happy  to  have  such  beautiful  presents.  And 
noAv,  if  you  are  so  kind  as  to  give  me  this  half-dollar, 
I  should  like  to  buy  something  to  give  to  some  one 
who  is  not  so  happy  as  I  am." 


36  WILLIE'S  GOLD  DOLLAR. 

"That  is  right,  Georgie,"  said  Willie.  "Father 
says  we  should  always  be  willing  to  share  our  blessings 
with  others.  But  what  will  you  buy,  Georgie  ?  " 

"  There  is  a  little  girl  in  the  other  part  of  this  house," 
replied  Georgie,  "  who  has  been  ill  for  a  long  time. 
Her  mother  is  poor,  and  cannot  buy  her  many  nice 
things,  such  as  sick  people  need.  I  think  I  should  like 
to  buy  some  nice  grapes  with  the  half-dollar,  and  give 
them  to  her  for  Christmas." 

"  Oh,  yes,  Georgie ! "  exclaimed  Willie.  "  She  will 
like  them,  I  am  sure :  for  once,  when  I  was  ill,  my 
mother  bought  a  bunch  of  grapes  for  me ;  and  they 
tasted  so  good  !  " 

Georgie's  mother  now  came  into  the  room ;  and 
Georgie  showed  her  the  book,  and  asked  her  if  he 
could  buy  grapes  for  the  sick  girl  with  the  half-dollar. 
She  was  quite  willing,  and  said  that  she  was  going  out 
for  a  little  while,  and  would  take  the  money,  and  buy 
the  grapes. 

"And  please  come  home  before  Willie  goes  away, 
mother,"  said  Georgie  ;  "  for  I  want  him  to  go  with 
me  to  give  Mary  the  grapes." 

Georgie's  mother  said  she  would  not  stay  long ;  and 
then  she  put  on  her  bonnet  and  shawl,  and  went  away, 
while  the  two  little  boys  amused  themselves  very 
pleasantly  with  the  new  book  and  the  map.  Willie 
also  told  Georgie  about  his  Christmas-gifts,  and 


37 


promised  to  bring  the  humming-top  to  show  him  the 
next  time  that  he  came. 

Very  soon  Georgia's  mother  came,  with  a  paper  con- 
taining some  beautiful  bunches  of  white  grapes ;  and 
Georgie  took  his  crutches,  which  he  was  obliged  to  use 
in  walking,  and,  asking  Willie  to  bring  the  grapes,  he 
led  the  way  to  the  part  of  the  house  where  little  Mary 
and  her  mother  lived. 

They  found  the  little  sick  girl  lying  upon  a  small 
cot-bed.  Every  thing  was  very  neat  and  clean  about 
her ;  and  although  she  looked  very  pale  and  sick,  yet 
her  countenance  was  cheerful  and  pleasant ;  and  she 
smiled  sweetly  when  she  saw  the  little  boys. 

"  I  wish  you  a  merry  Christmas,  Georgie,"  she 
said ;  "  and  I  am  very  glad  you  have  come  to  see  me ; 
for  I  have  something  so  beautiful  to  show  you  !  Please, 
mother,  bring  it  to  me." 

Her  mother  brought  a  tumbler  containing  a  pretty 
little  bunch  of  flowers,  and  held  it  close  to  Mary. 

"Only  look,  Georgie!  "  continued  the  little  girl,  as 
she  stretched  out  her  small,  white  hand,  and  gently 
touched  the  flowers  ;  "  are  they  not  beautiful  ?  The 
kind  doctor  who  comes  to  see  me  sometimes  sent  them 
to  me  for  Christmas.  They  smell  so  sweet !  " 

"  They  are  beautiful,  Mary,"  said  Georgie.     "  I  am 
very  glad  that  you  have  got  them  ;  and  Willie  and  I 
have  brought  you  something  for  Christmas,  too." 
4 


38  WILLIE'S  GOLD  DOLLAK. 

As  he  spoke,  he  took  the  paper  of  grapes  from 
"Willie's  hands,  and  gave  it  to  Mary's  mother,  say- 
ing,— 

"  Will  you  please  to  put  a  bunch  upon  a  plate,  and 
give  them  to  Mary  ?  " 

"  O  Mary  !  this  is  just  what  I  have  wanted  to  give 
you  when  your  mouth  is  so  hot  and  parched."  exclaimed 
her  mother.  "  I  am  sure  we  thank  you  very  much, 
Georgie." 

"  Willie  gave  me  the  money,"  replied  Georgie. 
"  He  gave  me  a  gold  dollar  to  buy  a  book :  but  it  cost 
only  half  a  dollar ;  and  so  we  could  buy  grapes  for 
Mary." 

"  They  are  very  nice,"  said  the  little  girl,  as  her 
mother  carefully  removed  the  skin  from  one  of  the 
grapes,  and  placed  it  in  her  mouth.  "  I  thank  you, 
Georgie  ;  and  I  thank  Willie,  too  :  I  am  glad  he  came 
to  see  me." 

"  I  will  come  again,  Mary,"  said  Willie,  going  up 
to  the  bedside  :  "  and  I  will  bring  you  one  of  my  boxes 
of  guava  jelly ;  for  I  had  two  in  my  Christmas  stock- 
ing. Sick  people  can  eat  guava  jelly;  and  you  will 
like  it,  I  am  sure." 

Mary's  mother  did  not  like  to  have  the  little  girl 
talk  long  at  one  time :  so  Georgie  and  Willie  bade  her 
good-by,  and  went  away ;  aud  very  soon  it  was  time 
for  Willie  to  go  home. 


WILLIE'S  GOLD  DOLLAR.  39 

His  mother  was  much  pleased  to  hear  about  his 
visit ;  and  she  said,  "  Your  gold  dollar  has  made  sev- 
eral people  happy, — has  it  not  Willie  ?  " 

"  Yes,  mother.  It  made  grandpa  happy  to  give  it 
to  me  ;  and  it  made  me  happy  to  give  it  to  Georgie  ; 
and  then  Georgie  was  happy  to  give  the  grapes  to  the 
little  girl ;  and  she  and  her  mother  were  both  happy 
to  have  them.  I  am  glad  that  my  gold  dollar  has 
given  so  many  people  pleasure,  mother." 

"  And  I  am  glad  also,  Willie.  It  is  good  to  love  to 
share  with  others  the  blessings  which  the  Lord  gives 
to  us." 


THE   THANKSGIVING  PARTY. 


"On,  mother,  mother!"  exclaimed  Lucy  "Welford, 
as  she  bounded  into  her  mother's  room,  one  bright, 
frosty  morning  in  November,  "  Uncle  John  is  in  the 
parlor,  and  he  has  come  to  ask  you  if  he  may  take 
Mary  and  me  home  with  him  to  pass  Thanksgiving. 
O,  please,  mother,  let  us  go.  Thanksgiving  in  the 
country  is  so  delightful,  much  more  so  than  in  the 
city.  Such  fine  sleigh-rides,  and  such  grand  slides  on 

• 

the  pond." 

"  And  the  delicious  pumpkin  pies,  and  the  roast  tur- 
keys, and  the  bowls  of  sweet  milk  and  cream,"  con- 
tinued Mary,  who  had  followed  her  sister  to  hear  their 
mother's  decision.  "  Oh,  it  will  be  so  pleasant.  And 
only  think,  mother,  Uncle  John  is  going  to  have  a 
large  party — a  regular  feast — he  says ;  and  Aunt  Clara 
thinks  that  Lucy  and  I  can  assist  her  very  much  if  you 
will  be  so  kind  as  to  let  us  go." 

"  Very  well,"  replied  their  mother,  smiling ;  "we 
will  go  and  talk  with  Uncle  John  about  it,  and  see  if 
(40) 


THE   THANKSGIVING   PARTY.  41 

father  thinks  he  can  spare  both  of  his  girls  for  a  few 
days." 

To  the  great  joy  of  Mary  and  Lucy,  father  and 
mother  at  length  gave  their  consent ;  and,  warmly 
wrapped  in  hoods  and  cloaks,  with  a  large  cai-pet-bag 
to  contain  such  articles  as  would  be  necessary  for  them 
during  their  stay,  they  sprang  lightly  into  Uncle  John's 
comfortable  sleigh,  and  with  many  a  kind  good-by  to 
the  dear  ones  at  home,  were  soon  riding  swiftly  away, 
leaving  far  behind  the  various  sights  and  sounds  of  the 
busy  city. 

A  pleasant  ride  of  fifteen  miles  brought  them  to  the 
old-fashioned  farm  house,  where  the  sound  of  the 
merry  bells  soon  called  Aunt  Clara  to  the  door,  and 
with  a  most  affectionate  welcome",  she  embiaced  her 
young  nieces,  and  expressed  her  joy  that  their  parents 
had  consented  to  spare  them  to  her  for  a  short  time. 

The  ride  in  the  fresh  air  had  given  the  girls  fine 
rosy  cheeks  and  excellent  appetites,  and  they  were 
quite  ready  to  accept  Aunt  Clara's  invitation  to  take 
a  luncheon  of  bread  and  milk,  and  some  of  her  nice 
doughnuts. 

"  And  now,   dear  aunt,    do   tell   us    all  about   the 

party,"  exclaimed  Lucy.     "Will  there  be  any  young 

folks,  or  is  it  only  for  grown  up  people  like  you  and 

Uncle  John  ?     We  tried  to  make  him  tell  us  about  it 

4* 


42  THE    THANKSGIVING    PARTY. 

as  we  rode  along ;  but  he  only  laughed,  and  said  we 
should  find  out  when  the  day  came." 

"  There  will  be  both  young  and  old,"  replied  their 
aunt,  smiling,  "  about  fifty  in  all ;  so  you  see  I  shall 
be  much  in  need  of  your  assistance  in  entertaining  so 
large  a  company." 

i%  AVe  will  do  everything  we  can  to  help  yon,"  said 
3Iary,  "  and  we  have  brought  our  new  winter  frocks 
to  wear,  and  new  ribbons  for  our  hair  ;  and  mother 
said,  if  anything  else  was  needed,  we  could  send  her 
word  to-morrow,  as  Uncle  John  said  he  should  be 
obliged  to  go  into  town." 

"  Oh,  your  dress  will  do  very  well,  I  have  no  doubt," 
replied  her  aunt.  "  Our  friends  are  not  very  showy 
people,  and  will  come  in  plain  attire.  But  I  must 
leave  you  and  Lucy  to  entertain  yourselves  for  a  short 
time,  as  a  part  of  my  morning  work  is  unfinished.  I 
suppose  you  will  not  be  at  a  loss  for  amusement." 

'•Not  at  all,"  answered  both  of  the  girls.  "We 
will  go  to  the  barn,  and  find  Uncle  John,  and  see  if 
our  old  pets  among  the  sheep  and  the  'cows  have  for- 
gotten us." 

The  remainder  of  the  day  passed  pleasantly  away, 
and  the  girls  were  so  much  fatigued  with  the  unusual 
exercise  they  had  taken  in  running  about  the  farm, 
that  they  were  quite  glad  when  bed-time  came,  and 


THE   THANKSGIVING   PARTY.  43 

slept  soundly  until  the  bright  rays  of  the  morning  sun 
were  beaming  in  at  their  window. 

"  To-morrow  will  be  the  day  for  the  party,"  ex- 
claimed Lucy,  as  she  and  her  sister  hastened  to  dress 
for  breakfast,  fearful  that  they  had  already  kept  their 
aunt  waiting.  "  I  expect  to  enjoy  it  so  much." 

"  So  do  I,"  replied  Mary.  "  I  am  very  glad  that 
there  are  young  people  coming.  There  are  some 
sweet  little  girls  in  the  neighborhood.  I  hope  Aunt 
Clara  has  invited  Mrs.  Carlton's  family.  They  live 
in  the  great  white  house  on  the  hill,  and  are  very  gen- 
teel, pleasant  people." 

"  No  doubt  they  will  be  here,"  returned  Lucy,  "  and 
the  "Wilsons  and  Smiths,  and,  perhaps,  Mr.  Marion's 
family.  There  must  be  many  others  coming  whom 
we  do  not  know,  for  axmt  said  there  would  be  about 
fifty  guests.  O,  I  am  sure  it  will  be  delightful !  " 

Breakfast  over,  Aunt  Clara  soon  found  abundance 
of  work  for  her  two  young  assistants.  There  were 
nutmegs  to  grate,  eggs  to  beat,  apples  to  pare,  meat  to 
mince,  and  various  other  employments,  which  the  girls 
found  very  interesting.  The  tables  were  soon  loaded 
with  pies,  cakes,  warm  bread,  and  every  variety  of 
eatables,  while  turkeys  and  chickens  by  the  dozen  were 
in  a  state  of  preparation,  and  the  large  pots  over  the 
fire  were  filled  with  the  nice  hams  which  Uncle  John 
had  provided  for  the  occasion.  Everything  showed 


44  THE   THANKSGIVING    PARTY. 

t 

that  there  was  to  be  a  bountiful  feast,  and  our  young 
friends  danced  for  joy,  as  they  thought  of  the  pleasure 
in  store  for  them. 

The  much  wished  for  day  came  at  length,  and  a 
bright  and  beautiful  day  it  was.  The  guests  were 
expected  to  assemble  about  noon,  and  by  eleven  o'clock, 
Lucy  and  Mary,  having  assisted  their  aunt  in  preparing 
the  long  table  in  the  dining-room,  hastened  to  their 
own  apartment  to  dress,  that  they  might  be  in  readi- 
ness to  receive  them. 

The  great  double  sleigh  with  the  pretty  gray  ponies 
was  already  harnessed,  for  some  of  the  visitors,  as 
Uncle  John  observed,  lived  at  quite  a  distance  from 
the  farm,  and  he  had  promised  to  send  for  them  at  the 
proper  time. 

"  Very  kind  in  Uncle  John,"  observed  Mary  to  her 
sister,  "  but  I  should  think  they  would  prefer  coming 
in  their  own  carriages." 

"But  it  is  so  pleasant  to  load  up  that  old  double 
sleigh,"  returned  Lucy.  "  The  younger  part  of  the 
company  will  enjoy  the  arrangement  exceedingly. 
Just  tie  this  bow  for  me,  Mary,  and  then,  I  believe, 
we  are  all  ready.  Let  us  go  down  at  once.  I  have 
no  doubt  that  a  part  of  the  company  have  arrived." 

But  the  parlors  were  still  empty.  Even  Aunt  Clara 
had  not  yet  appeared,  and  after  surveying  themselves 
with  much  satisfaction  in  the  large  mirror,  and  impa- 


THE  THANKSGIVING   PARTY.  45 

tiently  walking  up  and  down  the  room  for  a  short  time, 
the  girls  resolved  to  seek  her,  and  inquire  if  the  ap- 
pointed dinner  hour  had  not  nearly  arrived.  To  their 
surprise,  they  found  the  table  already  loaded  with  the 
smoking  plum  puddings,  and  nicely  roasted  turkeys 
and  chickens,  which  Uncle  John  and  Aunt  Clara  were 
carrying  with  all  possible  despatch. 

"  But  no  one  has  come  yet,  Uncle  John,"  exclaimed 
both  Lucy  and  Mary  in  a  breath.  "  Will  not  the  din- 
ner be  cold  ?  " 

"  Our  friends  have  all  arrived,"  was  their  uncle's 
quiet  reply ;  and  as  he  spoke,  the  door  leading  from 
the  great  kitchen  was  thrown  open,  and  a  crowd  of 
persons,  young  and  old,  appeared. 

There  was  the  honest  laborer,  who  had  toiled  hard 
through  the  year  for  the  support  of  his  large  family. 
There,  too,  was  the  cheerful  wife  and  the  joyful  little 
ones,  and,  perhaps,  the  aged  grand-parents,  whose 
feeble  steps  were  supported  by  their  children,  as  they 
took  their  seats  at  the  bountifully  spread  table.  In 
short,  most  of  the  worthy  poor  in  the  immediate  vici- 
nity of  the  farm  were  there  assembled,  and  some  few 
from  a  greater  distance. 

Mary  and  Lucy  had  not  time  to  recover  from  their 
surprise,  before  all  the  guests  were  seated  at  the  table, 
and  Uncle  John,  rising  from  his  chair,  bade  them  all 
a  kindly  welcome,  and  after  explaining  in  a  few  words 


46  THE   THANKSGIVING    PARTY. 

the  origin  of  Thanksgiving  Day,  asked  them  all  to 
xinite  with  him  in  a  prayer  of  thankfulness  to  the  Lord, 
from  whom  every  mercy  is  received. 

Each  guest  was  then  plentifully  supplied  with  the 
good  things  upon  the  table,  and  Aunt  Clara  requested 
her  nieces  to  attend  particularly  to  the  little  children, 
and  see  that  all  their  wants  were  cared  for. 

A  happier  party  was  seldom  .seen.  After  dinner, 
presents  of  food  and  clothing  were  distributed  among 
them,  and  Mary  and  Lucy  found  great  satisfaction  in 
dressing  the  children  in  new  clothes,  and  seeing  the 
gratitude  and  joy  in  their  smiling  little  faces. 

After  an  hour  or  two  spent  in  this  manner,  the  great 
sleigh  and  the  gray  horses  came  merrily  jingling  to  the 
door,  and  the  old  people  and  the  children  were  safely 
conveyed  to  their  homes,  and  the  rest  of  the  party, 
with  many  thanks  and  blessings  to  their  kind  entertain- 
ers, took  their  leave. 

"Well,  girls,  how  did  you  enjoy  my  party?"  ex- 
claimed Uncle  John,  as  he  reentered  the  parlor,  after 
bidding  farewell  to  the  last  of  his  guests. 

"  0,  very  much  indeed,"  was  the  reply.  "  It  was 
very  different  from  what  we  expected,  but  still  we 
enjoyed  it  very  much.  It  is  so  pleasant  to  make  others 
happy." 

"  It  is,  indeed,  my  children,"  returned  Uncle  John, 
"  and  it  appears  to  me  that  on  a  day  like  this,  it  is  the 


THE    THANKSGIVING    PARTY.  47 

duty  of  all  those  whom  the  Lord  has  blessed  with 
abundance,  to  seek  out  the  needy  and  afflicted,  and 
endeavor  to  relieve  their  wants." 

When  the  harvest  is  gathered  in,  and  the  farmer 
beholds  his  table  loaded  with  the  rich  fruits  of  the 
year,  he  should  call  upon  the  aged,  the  poor,  and  the 
helpless  to  come  in  with  him  and  share  his  feast. 


A   CHRISTMAS   STORY. 


"  HAVE  you  recollected  that  this  is  the  first  day  of 
winter,  Mary?"  asked  Isabel  Gordon  as  she  came 
into  the  room  where  her  younger  sister  was  seated 
with  her  atlas  spread  before  her,  busily  engaged  in 
preparing  her  lessons  for  the  next  day. 

"  I  have  not  thought  of  it  before,"  replied  Mary, 
quietly. 

"  But  now  you  do  think  of  it,  Mary,  do  you  remem- 
ber what  we  agreed  to  do  on  this  day?  Christmas 
will  soon  be  here  now,  you  know." 

"  In  little  more  than  three  weeks.  Yes,  Isabel,  I 
know  what  you  are  thinking  of.  We  agreed  to  open 
our  banks  to-day,  and  see  how  much  we  have  saved 
to  spend  for  Christmas  gifts." 

"  Yes,  that  is  it,"  replied  Isabel,  joyfully.  "  I  am  so 
glad  that  we  can  open  them  at  last.  I  want  to  know 
how  much  we  have  saved.  Shall  I  bring  them  now?" 

"  If  you  please.  I  have  just  finished  learning  my 
geography  lesson." 

(48) 


A   CHRISTMAS   STORY.  49 

Isabel  ran  to  the  closet,  and  quickly  returned  with' 
two  money-boxes,  or  banks,  in  her  hand.  She  gave 
one  to  her  sister,  and  taking  the  other  herself,  they  both 
succeeded,  without  much  difficulty,  in  making  an  open- 
ing so  that  they  could  get  at  the  treasure  within.  For 
nearly  a  year  the  little  girls  had  saved  almost  every 
penny  which  had  been  given  them,  that  they  might 
have  the  pleasure  of  giving  as  well  as  receiving  the 
pretty  holiday  gifts. 

"  Well,  Mary,  how  much  have  you  ?  "  asked  Isabel, 
as  she  finished  counting  the  pile  of  pennies,  sixpences, 
and  shillings  which  lay  before  her. 

"Four  dollars  and  a  few  pennies,"  answered  Mary. 
"  I  did  not  think  I  had  so  much." 

"  And  I  have  a  little  more  than  five  dollars,"  said 
Isabel,  triumphantly.  "You  know  I  saved  the  gold 
dollar  which  grandfather  gave  me,  and  you  did  not. 
Are  you  not  sorry  that  you  spent  it  ?  " 

"Not  at  all,  Isabel.  That  dollar  has  done  more 
good  in  the  last  two  months  than  it  would  have  done 
lying  in  our  little  banks.  You  know  I  bought  a  nice 
pair  of  shoes  and  some  stockings  for  Susan  Green, 
that  she  might  attend  the  sabbath  school.  Her  teacher 
says  she  is  learning  very  fast,  and  is  one  of  the  best 
children  in  her  class." 

"  Well,  never  mind  that  now,  Mary.  Let  us  talk 
about  the  best  way  to  spend  our  money.  What  will 


50  A    CHRISTMAS    STORT. 

you  buy  for  father  and  mother  ?  I  am  going  to  work 
a  pair  of  slippers  for  father,  and  I  shall  buy  a  pretty 
worked  collar  for  mother.  I  heard  her  say  the  other 
day  that  she  needed  some  new  collars." 

"  Have  you  time  to  embroider  a  pair  of  slippers?" 
asked  Mary. 

"  Oh  yes  !  Ellen  Shaw  taught  me  a  new  way.  I 
shall  buy  the  slippers  ready  made,  and  then  embroider 
them  with  gold  thread.  They  will  cost  me  about  a 
dollar,  and  mother's  collar  will  be  nearly  two.  Then 
I  must  buy  a  present  for  Betsey ;  a  new  apron  will 
please  her,  I  think,  and  will  not  cost  too  much.  I 
have  a  nice  plan  for  spending  the  remainder  of  the 
mouey  ;  but  first  let  me  hear  what  you  are  going  to  do 
with  yours." 

"  I  shall  buy  a  handsome  inkstand  for  father's  desk. 
You  know  he  broke  his  large  one  the  other  day,  and  is 
using  an  old  one  of  mother's  now.  I  will  try  to  get 
one  just  like  that  which  he  broke.  For  mother  I  will 
buy  a  beautiful  rose-bush  to  put  upon  her  flower-stand. 
For  Betsey  I  shall  have  a  nice  warm  hood.  I  am  to 
buy  the  materials,  and  mother  has  promised  to  help 
me  make  it.  There  will  still  be  as  much  as  a  dollar 
and  a  half  remaining,  and  mother  says  that  if  this  is 
expended  prudently  it  will  do  a  great  deal  of  good.  I 
have  not  quite  decided  what  to  do  with  it,  but  I  think 
I  shall  make  a  nice  warm  coverlet  for  that  poor  old 


A   CHRISTMAS   STORY.  51 

nan  and  his  wife  whom  we  went  to  see  last  week.  I 
heard  the  old  woman  telling  mother  that  she  often  suf- 
fered dreadfully  with  rheumatism  during  the  winter ; 
and  when  I  looked  around  and  saw  what  a  miserable 
shanty  they  have  to  shelter  them,  I  could  hardly  keep 
from  weeping." 

"  But  I  dare  say  that  some  one  else  will  give  them 
a  coverlet,"  replied  Isabel,  with  a  look  of  disappoint- 
ment, "  and  I  want  you  to  put  your  money  with  mine, 
and  buy  a  pretty  present  for  our  teacher.  We  can  get 
a  very  pretty  work-box  for  three  dollars,  and  I  am  sure 
she  would  be  very  much  pleased." 

Mary  was  silent  for  a  few  minutes.  She  loved  her 
teacher  very  much,  and  thought  it  would  be  very  pleas- 
ant to  make  her  a  present ;  but  then  the  remembrance 
of  the  poor  old  couple  in  the  wretched  shanty  came 
strongly  to  her  mind,  and  she  said,  decidedly,  "  No, 
Isabel,  I  cannot  do  it.  I  should  be  very  glad  to  make 
Miss  Spencer  a  present,  and  perhaps  mother  will  show 
me  how  to  make  a  needle-book  for  her,  but  the  poor 
people  need  a  coverlet  more  than  she  needs  a  work- 
box." 

"  That  is  no  rule,  Mary.  We  cannot  always  give 
to  those  who  need  it  the  most.  All  of  the  girls  are 
going  to  call  at  Miss  Spencer's  house  on  Christmas 
morning,  and  each  one  will  take  her  a  little  gift. 
If  you  will  only  join  with  me,  our  present  will  be 


62  A   CHRISTMAS    STORY. 

prettier  and  more  valuable  than  any  other  she  will 
receive." 

"  I  do  not  care  about  that,  Isabel.  Miss  Spencer 
•will  not  value  the  gifts  for  the  sake  of  what  they  cost. 
She  will  be  pleased  to  find  that  we  think  of  her  and 
love  her.  But  I  am  sure  she  would  rather  I  would 
spend  my  money  in  doing  good.  You  know  we  both 
agreed  to  save  a  part  for  the  poor." 

"  I  know  we  did,  but  some  other  time  will  do  as 
well  as  Christmas,"  replied  Isabel.  "  If  you  will  not 
help  me  to  buy  the  work-box,  I  will  buy  it  myself,  and 
not  spend  so  much  on  my  other  presents.  I  saw  a 
beauty  for  three  dollars,  the  other  day,  and  I  am  deter- 
mined to  have  one  like  it." 

"Father  says  that  we  ought  to  try  to  do  all  the  good 
we  can  upon  Christmas  day,"  answered  Mary,  gently. 
"  You  know  it  is  the  anniversary  of  the  day  when  the 
Lord  Jesus  Christ  came  into  the  world,  that  He  might 
do  more  good  to  men;  and  if  we  love  to  do  as  He 
teaches  us,  we  shall  be  willing  to  give  up  our  own 
pleasure  for  the  sake  of  helping  others. 

Isabel  felt  that  she  was  in  the  wrong,  but  she  was 
not  willing  to  acknowledge  it,  and  therefore  replied 
rather  crossly  that  Mary  could  do  as  she  pleased,  but 
she  had  no  idea  of  spending  her  money  in  Christmas 
gifts  for  the  poor. 

The  girls  therefore  said  no  more  to  each  other  upon 


A   CHRISTMAS   STORY.  53 

the  subject.  They  were  both  very  busy  in  their  prepa- 
rations for  Christmas,  however,  and  long  before  the 
important  day  arrived  everything  was  in  readiness. 
The  work-box  for  her  teacher  had  taken  so  large  a 
portion  of  Isabel's  money,  that  her  gifts  for  her  other 
friends  were  necessarily  trifling,  but  she  did  not  regret 
this  when  she  thought  how  pleased  Miss  Spencer  would 
be  with  so  valuable  a  present,  and  how  astonished  her 
young  companions  would  appear  at  her  generosity. 

Mary  had,  with  the  advice  of  her  mother,  expended 
the  part  of  her  money  which  she  had  set  apart  for  the 
poor,  so  judiciously,  that  it  went  much  farther  than  she. 
had  anticipated.  Some  partly  worn  dresses  served  for 
the  outside  of  the  coverlet,  and  with  the  money  thus 
saved,  many  other  comfortable  things  were  procured. 
The  happy  little  girl  danced  for  joy  when  all  was  com- 
pleted, and  she  thought  how  much  good  even  her  small 
hands  could  do. 

The  day  before  Christmas  arrived  ;  and  a  merry 
group  of  girls  had  assembled  at  an  early  hour  in  Miss 
Spencer's  pleasant  school-room,  to  talk  over  their  plans 
for  the  holidays. 

"  And  now,  girls,  let  us  arrange  at  what  hour  we 
will  call  on  Miss  Spencer,  to  wish  her  a  merry  Christ- 
mas, and  present  our  little  gifts,"  exclaimed  Caroline 
Elvvyn,  one  of  the  oldest  of  the  scholars.  "  I  propose 
that  we  should  all  meet  at  the  great  oak  tree,  at  ten 


54  A    CHRISTMAS    STORY. 

o'clock  to-morrow  morning,  and  then  we  can  go  to- 
gether. Only  you  must  be  sure  to  be  punctual,  for  the 
weather  is  rather  too  cold  to  make  it  very  agreeable  to 
wait  for  each  other." 

All  of  the  girls  readily  agreed  to  this  plan,  and  then 
followed  an  animated  discussion  as  to  the  beauty  and 
value  of  their  separate  gifts.  One  had  prepared  a 
work-bag,  another  a  needle-book,  a  third  had  worked 
a  collar,  a  fourth  a  pin-cushion. 

"  And  now,  tell  us  what  your  present  is  to  be,  Isa- 
bel," said  Caroline  Elwyn.  "  You  are  so  wonderfully 
silent  about  it,  that  we  suspect  it  must  be  something 
far  surpassing  our  humble  offerings.  You  shake  your 
head.  "Well,  we  will  not  urge  you.  Cannot  you  en- 
lighten us,  Mary  ?  " 

"  I  can  only  tell  you  what  iny  own  gift  is  to  be," 
was  the  smiling  reply.  "  I  have  made  a  pen-wiper  to 
lie  upon  her  desk." 

"  We  shall  soon  discover  Isabel's  secret,"  exclaimed 
another  of  the  girls.  "  Only  a  few  hours,  now,  before 
the  happy  time  will  be  here.  I  wish  it  were  night. 
Time  passes  so  quickly  when  we  are  sleeping." 

The  merry  laugh  which  this  remark  occasioned  had 
hardly  subsided,  when  their  teacher  entered  the  room. 
She  greeted  them  with  her  usual  affectionate  good 
morning,  and  pleasantly  remarked  that  they  must 
study  with  unusual  diligence  that  day,  as  the  holidays 
were  so  near. 


A   CHRISTMAS   STORY.  55 

The  girls  cheerfully  took  their  books,  and,  in  spite 
of  their  joyful  anticipations  for  the  coming  weeks, 
their  lessons  were  well  learned  and  recited. 

Toward  the  close  of  the  afternoon  session,  Miss 
Spencer  requested  them  to  put  away  their  books,  as 
she  had  something  to  say  to  them  before  she  closed 
the  school. 

When  everything  was  arranged  in  an  orderly  man- 
ner, she  told  them  that  it  had  been  her  custom  for  sev- 
eral years  to  visit  the  poor  families  in  the  neighborhood 
on  Christmas  day,  and  endeavor  to  do  what  she  could 
for  their  comfort.  She  said  that  she  hoped  that  all  of 
her  scholars  had  thought  of  the  poor  in  preparing  their 
Christmas  gifts,  and  had  remembered  that  though  it 
was  very  pleasant  and  proper  to  present  tokens  of  affec- 
tion to  their  friends,  yet  it  was  better  still  to  relieve 
those  who  were  in  need. 

Mary  looked  at.  her  teacher  while  she  was  speaking, 
with  such  a  bright,  animated  expression,  that  Miss 
Spencer  could  not  help  remarking  it,  and  said,  kindly, 

u  Have  you  thought  of  this  in  your  preparations  for 
Christmas,  Mary  ?  " 

"  I  have  tried  to  do  what  I  could,  ma'am,"  was  the 
modest  reply. 

•'  I  had  thought  of  proposing  that  some  of  my  schol- 
ars should  accompany  me  in  my  visits  to  the  poor 
to-morrow,"  continued  Miss  Spencer.  "There  is.  one 


56  A    CHRISTMAS    STOKY. 

old  couple  in  particular  whom  I  am  very  anxious  to 
assist,  as  they  are  exceedingly  destitute.  They  live  in 
that  miserable  shanty  at  the  foot  of  the  hill.  How- 
many  of  you  are  willing  to  aid  me  in  this  good  work, 
provided  your  parents  consent?" 

Almost  every  hand  was  raised,  and  then  each  spoke 
in  turn.  One  had  saved  a  dollar  for  the  use  of  the 
poor,  and  would  give  any  part  of  it  which  her  teacher 
thought  best.  Another  had  a  half  dollar,  another  a 
quarter,  and  three  pretty  little  girls  said  they  each  had 
a  bright  dime,  which  mother  had  given  them  to  spend 
for  the  poor.  Mary  had  no  money,  but  she  told  of  the 
warm  coverlet  and  some  comfortable  flannels  which 
she  had  prepared  for  the  very  couple  whom  her  teacher 
wished  to  assist. 

"  We  shall  make  their  home  a  happy  one  to-mor- 
row," said  Miss  Spencer.  u  I  have  two  dollars  of 
my  own  to  give  them,  and  I  have  also  prepared  a 
basket  of  food  suitable  for  their  Christmas  dinner. 
But  I  think  you  have  not  yet  spoken,  Isabel.  Have 
you  nothing  to  give  ?  I  believe  you  told  me  that  you 
had  saved  five  dollars  for  Christmas  gifts.  A  part  of 
this  would  be  well  disposed  in  relieving  these  poor 
sufferers." 

Isabel  blushed  deeply,  as  she  said,  in  a  low  tone, 
that  she  had  already  spent  her  money. 

It  was  then  arranged  that  the  siiis  should  meet  at 


A   CHRISTMAS    STORY.  57 

their  teacher's  house  the  next  morning,  bringing  with 
them  whatever  their  parents  were  willing  that  they 
should  bestow  in  charity.  Miss  Spencer  did  not  know 
that  they  had  already  agreed  to  meet  there  to  present 
the  gifts  which  they  had  prepared  for  herself,  and  the 
girls  were  quite  pleased  to  think  how  surprised  she 
would  be  when  she  discovered  this  little  secret. 

Among  all  the  merry  group  which  left  the  school- 
house,  Isabel  alone  was  sad  and  uncomfortable. 

"  I  do  not  know  why  I  should  feel  so  badly,"  she 
said  to  herself.  "  I  have  done  nothing  wrong.  I  have 
not  been  selfish,  for  I  have  spent  every  peony  of  my 
money  in  preparing  gifts  for  others." 

But  Isabel  had  not  yet  learned  to  examine  her  mo- 
tives strictly.  She  did  not  reflect  that  the  greater  part 
of  her  money  had  been  expended  for  gifts  which  it 
would  gratify  her  vanity  and  pride  to  present.  The 
box  which  she  had  purchased  for  her  teacher  was 
bought  for  the  very  purpose  of  outshining  her  com- 
panions. She  did  not  love  Miss  Spencer  any  better 
than  the  other  scholars,  but  she  wished  to  make  a  dis- 
play of  generosity  and  affection  which  would  astonish 
them  all. 

Miss  Spencer  had  frequently  noticed  this  defect  in 
Isabel's  character,  and  when  she  found  that  none  of 
the  money  which  she  had  boasted  of  having  saved  was 
reserved  for  charitable  purpose?,  she  felt  grieved,  and 


58  A    CHRISTMAS    STORY. 

calling  Isabel  to  her  as  the  other  scholars  left  the 
room,  she  passed  her  arm  around  her,  and  said,  gently, 
"  I  am  sorry  that  you  cannot  aid  us  in  our  good  work, 
Isabel." 

"  I  am  sorry,  too,  Miss  Spencer,  but  I  have  spent 
all  my  money  in  preparing  gifts  for  my  friends." 

u  We  should  never  forget  the  poor,  Isabel.  Would 
not  less  valuable  gifts  have  expressed  equal  affection 
for  those  you  love,  and  then  there  would  have  been 
some  remaining  for  those  who  need  it  more." 

Isabel  made  no  reply,  but  she  loooked  sad  and  mor- 
tified as  she  bade  her  teacher  good  afternoon.  And 
yet  her  pride  was  not  subdued  ;  for  when  Mary  kindly 
offered  to  share  with  her  the  articles  which  she  had 
prepared  for  the  poor,  she  answered,  haughtily,  that 
she  could  easily  have  bought  these  things  if  she  had 
chosen  to  do  so. 

Christmas  morning  was  bright  and  beautiful,  and 
very  mild  for  the  season.  With  happy  hearts  and 
faces  the  little  girls  met  around  the  old  oak  tree,  and 
after  telling  each  other  of  the  pretty  gifts  they  had 
received,  and  displaying  those  which  they  had  brought 
for  their  teacher,  they  all  proceeded  to  Miss  Spencer's 
house. 

Xow  was  the  time  for  Isabel's  expected  triumph. 
With  glowing  cheeks  and  a  self-satisfied  air  she  pre- 
sented her  present ;  but  the  murmur  of  admiration 
which  she  had  anticipated  was  not  heard. 


A    CHRISTMAS    STORY.  59 

Miss  Spencer  thanked  her,  and  said  it  was  a  very 
pretty  box ;  but  she  seemed  quite  as  well  pleased  with 
some  of  the  most  trifling  articles  which  were  given 
her.  She  particularly  commended  the  neatness  and 
good  taste  which  Mary  had  shown  in  making  the  pen- 
wiper. Indeed,  she  seemed  more  delighted  with  even 
the  most  simple  gifts  which  the  scholars  had  made 
themselves,  than  with  far  more  costly  ones  which  had 
been  purchased  for  her. 

As  for  the  scholars,  they  were  so  much  occupied 
with  examining  what  they  had  brought  for  the  poor, 
that  they  could  give  but  a  passing  glance  of  admira- 
tion at  the  work-box. 

As  Isabel  had  nothing  to  give  she  did  not  wish  to 
accompany  the  happy  party,  and  therefore  returned 
immediately  home.  Her  mother  found  her  in  her 
own  room  weeping  bitterly,  and  gently  drew  from  her 
the  cause  of  her  grief. 

"  This  may  be  a  useful  lesson  to  you,  dear  Isabel," 
she  said.  "  It  will  teach  you  that  no  real  happiness  is 
ever  derived  from  a  selfish  act.  Your  motive  in  pre- 
senting a  more  expensive  gift  to  your  teacher  than  the 
rest  of  your  companions  were  prepared  to  do,  was  sel- 
fish. You  expected  to  receive  praise  and  admiration. 
In  this  you  were  disappointed,  and  therefore  you  are 
unhappy.  Another  time  I  trust  you  will  do  better. 
In  expending  your  money  for  Christmas  gifts,  you  will 


60  A    CHRISTMAS    STORY. 

remember  those  who  need  it  most,  and  will  gladly 
give,  hoping  for,  nothing  again." 

Isabel  still  wept,  but  less  violently  than  before,  and 
when  Mary  entered  with  a  beaming  countenance,  and 
told  her  mother  of  the  gratitude  and  joy  of  the  poor 
people  whom  they  had  visited,  Isabel  put  her  arm 
around  her  neck  and  asked  her  forgiveness  for  her  ill 
humor,  and  promised  that  when  another  Christmas 
came,  she  too  would  remember  those  who  need  it  most. 


APRIL   FOOL'S  DAY. 


"WHAT  new  experiment  are  you  trying,  my  son?" 
asked  Mr.  Willard,  as  he  entered  his  pleasant  parlor 
late  in  the  afternoon  of  a  day  in  early  spring,  unper- 
ceived  by  his  little  son  Arthur,  who  was  ..busily  em- 
ployed in  tying  up  several  small  packages  which  lay 
on  the  table  before  him. 

Arthur  looked  up  at  his  father  with  a  bright  smile  ; 
for  Mr.  Willard  always  took  a  great  interest  in  the 
amusements  of  his  children,  and  they  were  in  the 
habit  of  consulting  him  and  asking  his  assistance  in 
many  of  their  sports. 

"  Don't  tell  Willie  and  Jane,  father,"  said  Arthur, 
"  and  I  will  tell  you  all  about  it.  You  know  to- 
morrow will  be  the  first  day  of  April,  and  I  expect  to 
have  a  fine  time  playing  tricks  upon  people.  There  is 
nothing  in  these  parcels  but  little  chips  and  stones.  I 
shall  put  one  of  them  upon  Jane's  table  after  she  is 
asleep  to-night ;  and  she  will  be  sure  to  open  it  the 
first  thing  in  the  morning.  I  expect  she  will  think 
6  (61) 


62  APRIL    FOOL'S    DAY. 

that  Uncle  Samuel  or  Aunt  Mary  were  here  in  the 
evening,  and  brought  her  a  nice  little  present.  Then 
I  shall  drop  another  package  where  Willie  will  find  it 
when  he  goes  to  feed  his  chickens.  What  a  hurry  he 
will  be  in  to  pick  it  up  ! 

"  And,  father,"  continued  Arthur,  "  you  do  not 
know  what  a  nice  joke  I  shall  play  upon  Susan  ! 
Sometimes,  when  I  get  up  early  in  the  morning,  and 
she  is  in  a  hurry  getting  breakfast,  I  go  to  Mr.  Co- 
nant's  for  the  milk.  Now,  to-morrow  morning  1  mean 
to  be  up  very  early,  before  Susan  leaves  her  room. 
Then  I  wall  take  the  milk-pail,  and  put  a  quart  of 
water  into  it,  and  set  it  in  the  place  where  I  usually 
put  it  when  I  bring  the  milk.  When  Susan  comes 
into  the  kitchen,  she  will  see  the  pail  on  the  table,  and, 
finding  it  heavy,  will  suppose  I  have  been  for  the  milk. 
So  she  will  say,  '  O,  Arthur  !  you  are  a  good  boy  to 
bring  my  milk  ; '  and  then  she  will  take  off  the  cover 
to  pour  it  into  the  pitcher.  How  I  shall  laugh  at  her 
when  she  finds  it  is  water  !  " 

Mr.  Willard  smiled  a  little  as  Arthur  clapped  his 
hands  at  the  thought  of  Susan's  vexation  :  but  in  a 
moment  he  looked  grave,  and,  seating  himself  in  his 
rocking-chair,  he  drew  his  little  son  close  to  his  side, 
and  said,  kindly, — 

"Do  the  angels  try  to  make  people  happy  or  un- 
happy. Arthur  ?  " 


APRIL   FOOL'S    DAT.  63 

"  Happy,  father,"  replied  the  boy,  looking  wonder- 
ingly  in  his  father's  face. 

"Then  you  are  not  trying  to  do  like  the  angels, — 
are  you,  Arthur.  You  mean  to  vex  people,  and  make 
them  unhappy." 

Arthur  blushed,  and  looked  very  thoughtful ;  and 
his  father  continued, — 

"  Jane  and  Willie  and  Susan  will  all  feel  somewhat 
vexed  and  displeased  at.  your  jokes,  —  will  they  not, 
my  son  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir,  I  suppose  they  will,"  answered  Arthur  ; 
"  but,  then,  I  want  to  have  a  little  fun  on  April  Fool's 
Day." 

"  It  is  poor  fun  to  make  others  unhappy.  I  have 
no  objection  to  your  playing  jokes  or  tricks,  as  you 
call  them,  upon  your  brother  and  sister  and  Susan  ; 
but  I  should  like  to  have  you  think  of  something  which 
would  please  them,  instead  of  making  them  vexed." 

"  But,  father,  I  cannot  think  of  any  tricks  of  that 
kind." 

"  I  will  help  you  a  little,  Arthur,  and  then  you  will 
understand  what  I  mean.  We  will  take  the  trick 
which  you  intended  to  play  upon  Susan,  for  instance. 
No\v,  if,  instead  of  putting  water  in  the  pail,  and 
deceiving  her  by  making  her  think  it  is  milk,  you 
should  rise  early,  and  really  bring  her  the  milk,  you 
might  still  have  a  pleasant  joke  by  putting  the  pail  in 


64  APRIL   FOOL'S   DAY. 

the  place  where  it  usually  stands  when  it  is  empty, 
instead  of  on  the  table  where  you  leave  it  when  it  is 
filled.  Then  Susan  will  be  greatly  surprised  when  she 
takes  it  up,  intending  to  go  for  the  milk." 

Arthur's  face  grew  very  bright  again. 

"  Oh,  yes,  father !  I  shall  like  that  plan  very 
much  :  it  is  much  better  than  my  own.  And  how 
shall  I  manage  about  Willie  and  Jane  ?  " 

"  Try  to  think  of  some  way  yourself j  Arthur.  Only 
remember  to  have  your  joke  of  a  kind  that  will  give 
pleasure,  and  not  pain." 

"  I  know  of  a  grand  trick  to  play  upon  Jane,  father, 
if  you  will  let  me  run  to  the  shop  and  spend  my  bright 
half-dollar  that  my  grandfather  gave  me.  Jane  has  a 
hole  in  her  thimble,  and  she  pricked  her  finger  sadly 
to-day.  Now,  I  can  buy  a  nice  new  thimble  for  her, 
and  take  her  old  one  from  her  work-basket,  and  put 
the  new  one  in  its  place.  How  surprised  she  will  be  ! 
May  I  do  this,  father  ?  " 

"  If  you  feel  willing  to  spend  your  money  for  your 
sister,  I  shall  be  glad  to  have  you  do  so,  Arthur." 

"  I  am  willing,  father.  And  now  for  Willie  ;  what 
shall  I  do  for  him  ?  I  think  I  must  drop  a  little  par- 
cel where  he  will  pick  it  up,  father ;  but  I  will  not  put 
sticks  and  stones  in  it.  I  have  some  nice  candies  in 
my  pocket,  which  a  boy  at  school  gave  me.  Willie 
does  not  know  that  I  have  them  ;  and  I  will  put  them 


APRIL    FOOL  S    DAY.  bO 

into  his  paper.  How  he  will  wonder  where  they  came 
from ! " 

Mr.  Willard  felt  much  pleased  to  see  how  readily 
Arthur  followed  his  advice  ;  and  the  little  boy  himself 
felt  far  happier  now  that  his  plans  for  the  jokes  of  the 
next  day  were  all  of  a  kind  to  make  others  happy. 

The  thimble  was  bought ;  the  package  of  candy  tied 
up,  and  carefully  placed  where  Willie  would  be  sure 
to  find  it.  Every  thing  succeeded  quite  to  Arthur's 
satisfaction.  He  awoke  very  early,  and,  stealing  softly 
from  the  house,  brought  the  milk,  and  replaced  the 
pail  iu  the  closet. 

Susan  came  out  of  her  room  somewhat  later  than 
usual,  and  hurried  around,  fearful  that  her  breakfast 
would  not  be  ready  at  the  appointed  hour.  She  did 
not  observe  Arthur,  who  had  seated  himself  where  he 
thought  he  should  be  unnoticed,  that  he  might  enjoy 
her  surprise.  He  came  very  near  laughing  aloud  when 
he  heard  Susan  exclaim,  as  she  hastily  tied  on  her 
bonnet  and  ran  to  the  closet, — 

"  Oh,  dear,  I  must  go  for  the  milk  !  I  was  so  in 
hopes  that  Arthur  would  have  got  it  for  me  this 
morning ! " 

Arthur  held  his  hand  tightly  over  his  mouth  ;  but 
when  he  saw  Susan  lift  the  pail  up  suddenly,  and  then 
quickly  take  off  the  cover  to  see  what  made  it  so  heavy, 
6* 


66  APRIL   FOOL'S    DAY. 

he  could  no  longer  keep  quiet,  but  with  a  merry  laugh 
bounded  from  his  hiding-place,  exclaiming, — 

"  Now,  Susan,  didn't  I  tell  you  I  would  play  a  trick 
on  you  to-day  ?  " 

Susan  smiled  pleasantly,  and  said  she  did  not  care 
how  many  tricks  he  played  on  her  if  they  were  all  as 
good  as  that. 

Next  came  Willie,  full  of  wonder  at  the  contents  of 
the  package  which  he  had  found  in  the  box  where  he 
kept  the  corn  for  his  chickens. 

"  Only  think,  Arthur,"  said  he  ;  "  the  door  of  the 
chicken-house  was  locked,  so  no  one  could  have  got  in 
last  night,  and  yet  I  feel  sure  that  this  was  not  there 
when  I  fed  the  chickens  at  supper-time.  Such  nice 
candy  !  Do  you  think  it  will  be  right  for  us  to  eat  it, 
or  must  we  try  to  find  out  to  whom  it  belongs  ?  " 

There  was  such  a  roguish  look  on  Arthur's  face,  as 
he  replied  that  he  thought  there  would  be  no  harm  in 
eating  it,  that  Willie  began  to  understand  the  joke  ; 
and,  well  pleased,  he  divided  the  candy  with  his  brother 
and  sister. 

But  Arthur  felt  still  more  pleased  when  little  Jane 
took  up  her  work-basket  with  a  sigh,  saying, — 

"  I  will  try  to  hem  the  handkerchief  you  wish  me 
to,  mother  ;  but  my  thimble  has  such  a  great  hole  in 
it,  that  the  head  of  my  needle  pricks  my  finger  every 
few  minutes." 


APRIL    FOOL'S    DAY.  67 

What  a  joyful  surprise,  —  to  find  the  old  thimble 
missing,  and  a  bright  new  one  in  its  place  !  It  would 
have  been  hard  to  tell  which  felt  the  most  pleased, 
Jane  or  Arthur.  Both  were  delighted  ;  and  we  are 
very  sure  that  Arthur  did  not  once  regret  that  he  had 
spent  his  half-dollar  for  his  sister's  pleasure. 

When  evening  came,  and  Mr.  Willard  was  at  leisure 
to  sit  down  with  his  children,  Arthur  had  many  funny 
stories  to  tell  of  the  pleasant  jokes  which  he  had  played 
through  the  day. 

Charley  Mason,  one  of  his  schoolmates,  had  torn  a 
large  hole  in  his  kite  when  they  were  flying  it  at 
recess.  At  noon,  he  hurried  home  for  his  dinner  ;  in- 
tending, if  possible,  to  return  in  season  to  mend  the 
kite,  and  have  another  play,  before  school  commenced 
in  the  afternoon.  Arthur,  having  brought  his  dinner 
with  him  in  the  morning,  Avas  not  obliged  to  return 
home  ;  and  he  carefully  mended  the  kite  while  Charley 
was  absent. 

"  It  was  such  fun  to  see  him  turn  it  over  and  over, 
and  look  for  the  hole  !  "  continued  Arthur,  as  he  told 
the  story  to  his  father  ;  "  and  Johnny  Gardiner  looked 
almost  as  funny  when  he  found  a  long  slate-pencil  in 
his  desk,  which  I  had  slyly  slipped  in,  just  as  he  had 
made  up  his  mind  to  go  and  tell  the  teacher  the  old 
story,  —  that  he  had  no  pencil.  Johnny  does  not  like 


68  APRIL    FOOL'S    DAY. 

to  tell  Miss  Grant  that  very  well,  for  he  is  famous  for 
losing  his  pencil. 

"  And,  father,  I  played  a  nice  joke  on  Miss  Grant. 
She  thought  I  could  not  learn  so  long  a  lesson  in  geog- 
raphy as  she  had  given  to  the  rest  of  the  class,  because 
I  am  younger  than  the  others,  and  have  never  been 
through  the  book  before.  So  she  told  me  to  take  half 
of  the  lesson ;  but  I  studied  hard,  and  learned  the 
whole.  When  we  were  reciting,  she  stopped  when  she 
had  heard  about  half,  and  said,  '  You  may  take  your 
saat  now,  Arthur.' 

"  '  Thank  you,  ma'am,'  I  answered  ;  '  but  I  can  say 
it  all.' 

"  Then  she  looked  surprised,  and  said  I  must  have 
worked  very  hard. 

"  But,  father,  that  book  is  too  hard  for  me  ;  and 
Miss  Grant  told  me  to  ask  you  to  buy  one  more  suit- 
able. I  wish  you  would,  father :  I  love  to  study  geog- 
raphy. Henry  Williams  has  such  a  beauty !  all  full 
of  pictures.  Oh,  how  I  should  like  one  like  that !  " 

"  We  must  think  about  it,"  replied  Mr.  Willard. 
"  And  now,  Arthur,  I  must  attend  to  some  writing  for 
a  little  while,  and  you  may  look  over  your  lessons  for 
to-morrow." 

'"Yes,  father,  my  geography:  I  always  have  to 
study  that  in  the  evening."  And,  with  a  little  sigh, 
Arthur  wont  for  his  satchel  of  books.  But  it  was  now 


APRIL    FOOL'S   DAY.  69 

his  turn  to  find  a  pleasant  joke  ;  for  the  old  geography 
had  been  taken  from  the  bag,  and  in  its  place  was  one 
exactly  like  the  "beauty"  owned  by  Henry  Williams, 
upon  the  blank  leaf  of  which  was  written,  "  Arthur 
"Willard  ;  from  his  father,  April  first,  eighteen  hun- 
dred fifty-six." 


THE   CHRISTMAS-TREE. 


"  OH,  dear,  it  is  almost  Christmas  !  "  exclaimed  Mary 
Bradley  with  a  deep  sigh,  which  caused  her  younger 
brother  Horace  to  look  up  from  his  book  with  surprise. 

"  Why  do  you  sigh  about  it,  Mary  ? "  he  asked. 
"  Are  you  not  glad  that  Christmas  is  coming  ? " 

"  I  should  be  glad,  Horace,"  replied  his  sister  in  a 
melancholy  tone,  "  if  things  were  as  they  used  to  be. 
What  beautiful  gifts  we  had  last  year  !  But  father 
was  rich  then  ;  and  now  he  is  poor."  And  again 
Mary  sighed  deeply. 

"  I  do  not  think  father  is  very  poor,"  replied  Hor- 
ace, laughing.  "  I  am  sure  we  have  all  we  want, —  a 
good  house  to  live  in,  plenty  of  food  and  clothing,  a 
warm  fire,  and  many  kind  friends.  Do  you  call  that 
being  poor,  sister  Mary  ?  You  ought  to  see  the  poor 
wretches  that  I  meet  sometimes  on  my  way  to  school." 

"  How  foolishly  you  talk,  Henry ! "  answered  his 
sister,  rather  petulantly.  "  You  know  very  well  what 
(70) 


THE    CHRISTMAS-TRICK.  71 

I  mean.  Of  course,  we  are  not  street  beggars  ;  but 
Ave  live  very  differently  from  what  we  did  last  year  at 
this  time.  Our  beautiful  house,  our  horses  and  car- 
riage, and  nearly  all  of  our  servants,  are  gone." 

"  No  matter  for  that,"  returned  Master  Horace. 
"  Father  has  paid  all  his  debts  like  an  honest  man, 
and  we  have  all  we  need.  A  small  house  is  just  as 
comfortable  as  a  large  one  ;  the  cars  and  omnibuses 
answer  as  good  a  purpose  as  our  own  carriage ;  and 
as  to  the  servants,  I  much  prefer  waiting  upon  myself. 
As  long  as  I  have  good  Mrs.  Betty  to  cook  my  dinner, 
it  is  all  I  want." 

"  It  is  of  no  use  talking  to  you,  Horace,"  answered 
his  sister,  as  she  rose  to  leave  the  room  ;  "  but,  when 
you  see  what  a  bare  Christmas-tree  we  shall  have  this 
year,  you  will  be  convinced  that  we  are  poor." 

"  We  had  more  than  we  knew  what  to  do  with  last 
year,"  persisted  Horace,  following  his  sister.  "  Sup- 
pose we  hunt  up  about  half  a  bushel  of  books  and  toys, 
and  present  them  to  Santa  Glaus  for  distribution.  No 
doubt  he  will  be  grateful  to  us  ;  for  times  are  hard, 
and  his  purse  may  be  poorly  filled." 

"  What  nonsense  !  "  exclaimed  Mary,  impatiently. 
"  I  will  not  stay  talking  with  you  any  longer." 

But,  at  this  moment,  the  pleasant  voice  of  their 
mother  was  heard  calling  them  from  the  adjoining 
room. 


72  THE   CHRISTMAS-TREE. 

She  had  heard  their  conversation,  and  now  replied 
to  Horace's  suggestion, — 

"  Your  plan  is  an  excellent  one,  my  son  ;  and  I  will 
try  to  put  it  in  a  form  that  will  be  less  displeasing  to 
your  sister." 

"  Horace  talks  so  much  nonsense  ! "  said  Many,  as 
she  took  an  offered  seat  by  her  mother's  side. 

"A  little  nonsense,  but  a  good  deal  of  sense,  my 
daughter,"  returned  her  mother.  "  Your  mind  is  in  a 
disturbed  and  unhappy  state,  and  therefore  you  are 
not  ready  to  meet  his  pleasant  way  of  treating  our 
troubles." 

Although  Mary  indulged  in  occasional  fits  of  ill 
humor  and  selfish  repining,  she  was  really  a  sensible 
and  very  affectionate  little  girl.  She  loved  her  mother 
very  dearly,  and  felt  sad  and  mortified  that  she  should 
have  added  in  the  least  degree  to  her  trials.  In  a  few 
moments,  therefore,  she  looked  up  with  a  cheerful 
smile,  and  said,  "  I  will  try  to  do  better,  mother.  I 
know  we  have  every  comfort  that  we  need.  It  was 
only  the  thought  of  the  Christmas-tree  that  made  me 
unhappy.  But  I  will  try  not  to  think  of  it  any 
more." 

"  Think  of  it  in  a  different  way,  my  dear  Mary. 
Our  Christmas-tree  will,  I  doubt  not,  be  well  filled, 
though  with  less  costly  gifts  than  you  have  hitherto 
received.  But  how  many  there  are  who  have  no 


THE   CHRISTMAS-TREE.  73 

Christmas-tree! — how  many  who  will  even  want  for 
food  and  clothing  on  that  happy  day  ! " 

Mary's  eyes  filled  with  tears,  but  she  made  no 
reply  ;  and  her  mother  proceeded,  — 

"  When  the  Lord,  in  his  divine  providence,  permits 
us  to  meet  with  such  trials  as  he  sees  to  be  for  our 
good,  we  must  not  harden  our  hearts.  We  will  not 
look  back  with  regret  upon  the  luxuries  we  have  lost : 
but  we  will  rejoice  in  the  comforts  remaining ;  and  we 
will  endeavor,  as  far  as  possible,  to  share  those  com- 
forts with  others  more  needy  than  ourselves.  The 
proposal  which  Horace  made  in  regard  to  your  old 
books  and  playthings  is  a  very  good  one.  There  are" 
many  children  who  may  be  made  happy  with  what 
you  now  consider  useless.  Collect  every  thing  which 
you  feel  willing  to  part  with,  and  I  will  add  some 
articles  of  clothing.  Betty  can  tell  us  of  several  poor 
families  who  will  be  thankful  for  a  portion  of  our 
abundance." 

"  I  will  go  and  look  over  our  things  at  once  ! "  ex- 
claimed Mary.  "  I  have  no  doubt  we  can  spare  a 
great  many.  Come,  Horace  ! "  And,  for  the  next 
few  hours,  the  brother  and  sister  were  busily  engaged, 
not  in  useless  regrets  concerning  their  own  Christmas- 
tree,  but  in  active  efforts  to  prepare  gifts  to  adorn  the 
trees  of  children  far  more  destitute  than  themselves. 

Betty,  having  been  made  their  confidante  on  the 


74  THE    CHRISTMAS-TREE. 

occasion,  took  much  interest  in  hunting  up  destitute 
families  who  were  deserving  of  assistance  ;  and  Mary 
and  Horace  soon  found  that  there  would  be  no  diffi- 
culty in  disposing  of  their  little  stock.  Long  before 
the  important  day  arrived,  the  gifts  at  their  disposal 
were  done  up  in  neat  packages,  and  duly  marked  with 
the  names  of  those  for  whom  they  were  designed. 
Mrs.  Bradley  had  added  an  ample  supply  of  partly 
worn  clothing ;  and  Mr.  Bradley,  when  ha  found  what 
was  going  on,  had  promised  to  provide  some  articles 
of  food  to  distribute  among  those  who  were  most  in 
want. 

Mary  and  Horace  were  to  have  the  pleasure  of  pre- 
senting these  gifts  themselves  ;  and  they  were  now 
eagerly  longing  for  the  happy  day,  not  for  the  sake  of 
what  they  would  themselves  receive,  but  that  they 
might  have  the  happiness  of  imparting  their  blessings 
to  others. 

Christmas  Eve  came  at  last :  and,  attended  by  Betty, 
the  children  left  their  little  parcels  at  their  various 
destinations  ;  and  then,  with  their  hearts  warmed  and 
cheered  by  the  grateful  words  and  smiles  which  they 
had  received,  they  turned  their  steps  toward  home, 
that  they  might  enjoy  the  pleasant  sight  of  their  own 
Christmas-tree,  which  they  rightly  concluded  would  be 
brilliantly  lighted  up  during  their  absence. 

As  they  turned  the  corner  near  their  own  home, 


THE    CHRISTMAS-TREE.  <O 

they  met  a  pale-faced,  thinly  clad  little  boy,  with  a 
small  branch  of  evergreen  in  his  hand,  which  he  was 
carrying  carefully  along,  as  if  he  considered  it  a  prec- 
ious treasure. 

"Is  that  your  Christmas-tree,  little  boy?"  asked 
Horace,  as  they  drew  near  to  him. 

"  I  found  it !  "  exclaimed  the  child,  joyfully.  "  I 
am  so  glad  !  Now  Susy  and  I  can  have  a  Christmas- 
tree  ! "  And  he  was  hurrying  along ;  but  Horace 
stopped  him  by  saying, — 

"  Have  you  any  thing  to  put  on  the  tree,  little  boy  ?  " 

"Not  much,"  was  the  reply.  "But  Susy  and  I 
have  each  got  a  penny  :  that  will  buy  something." 

"  Who  is  Susy  ? "  asked  Mary,  as  the  little  fellow 
was  again  hastening  on  his  way. 

"  My  little  sister,  miss.  She  will  be  so  glad  that  I 
have  got  the  tree  !  I  must  go  to  her." 

"Come  with  us  first,"  returned  Mary,  "  and  we  will 
give  you  something  to  hang  on  the  tree.  I  have  a 
little  doll  for  Susy,  and  some  candles  to  light  up  the 
tree." 

The  little  pale  face  looked  bright  and  almost  rosy 
now  as  he  trudged  along  with  the  children,  still  hold- 
ing fast  to  his  precious  tree. 

It  did  not  take  many  moments  to  fill  a  small  basket 
with  what  appeared  to  the  child  great  treasures ;  and 
his  eyes  sparkled  with  joy  as  a  warm  cape  was  placed 


76  THE    CHRISTMAS-TREE. 

upon  his  shoulders,  and  a  cap,  long  since  outgrown  by 
Horace,  upon  his  head.  Finding,  upon  inquiry,  that 
his  mother  was  a  poor  widow,  residing  in  their  imme- 
diate neighborhood,  Mrs.  Bradley  directed  Betty  to  fill 
another  basket  with  food,  and  accompany  the  child 
home.  Mary  and  Horace  begged  leave  to  go  with 
her,  although  they  had  not  as  yet  given  one  glance  at 
their  own  Christmas-tree. 

It  was  a  pleasant  sight  to  look  at  little  Susy,  as  her 
brother  eagerly  displayed  his  treasures  to  her  admiring 
gaze  ;  and  it  was  even  more  gratifying  to  witness  the 
gratitude  of  the  mother,  as  Betty  emptied  the  contents 
of  her  basket. 

After  assisting  in  planting  the  branch  of  evergreen 
in  a  broken  flower-pot  which  the  children  produced  for 
the  purpose,  Mary  and  Horace  took  leave,  and  joyfully 
returned  to  their  home. 

Their  Christmas-tree  was  indeed  radiant  with  light. 
It  seemed  to  the  happy  children  that  it  had  never  been 
so  brilliant  before  ;  for  their  hearts  were  filled  with  the 
delight  of  doing  good  to  others,  and  this  made  all  seem 
bright  around  them. 

Morning  found  the  tree  well  loaded  with  fruit, — 
pretty  and  useful  gifts,  which  the  children  were  de- 
lighted to  receive.  It  was  indeed  a  happy  Christmas. 
They  felt  that  they  were  surrounded  with  blessings  ; 
and,  above  all,  they  rejoiced  in  the  happiness  of  shar- 
ing these  blessings  with  others. 


A    DREAM. 


IT  was  Christmas  Eve  ;  the  brilliantly-lighted  streets 
were  thronged  with  happy  faces,  and  the  merry  hum 
of  children's  voices  seemed  to  rise  above  all  other 
sounds  in  the  busy  crowd.  Our  own  young  folks  had 
gone  to  rest  with  their  little  hearts  filled  with  joyous 
expectations  for  the  morrow.  The  stockings,  hung  by 
the  chimney  corner,  had  already  been  duly  visited  by 
the  representatives  of  Santa  Glaus,  and  fatigued  Avith 
the  labors  of  the  day,  we  would  gladly  have  sought 
repose,  when  a  gentle  ring  at  the  bell  attracted  our 
attention,  and  directly  after,  our  maid  of  all  work 
entered,  and  asked  if  we  had  any  thing  to  give  to  a 
poor  child  who  Avas  standing  at  our  door. 

"  Poor  thing  !  "  we  exclaimed  involuntarily.  "  It 
is  hard  to  think  that  any  child  is  begging  from  door  to 
door,  on  Christmas  Eve,  Avhen  our  OAvn  darlings  are 
so  happy." 

"Tell  the  child  to  step  in,"  was  the  direction  to 
7*  (77) 


78  A   DREAM. 

Jenny,  and  in  a  few  moments  a  modest-looking  little 
girl  stood  before  us.  Her  slender  form  was  but  scantily 
protected  from  the  cold  ;  and  her  countenance  showed 
that  she  was  indeed  in  need  of  the  assistance  which 
she  craved. 

Her  tale  was  a  simple  one.  Her  mother  was  very 
poor,  and  there  were  five  children,  of  whom  she  was 
the  eldest. 

We  inquired  for  the  father,  and  her  blue  eyes  were 
fixed  upon  the  ground,  as  she  answered  timidly,  that 
he  was  at  home,  but  he  was  often  sick,  and  did  not  do 
much  for  their  support.  A  few  more  questions  con- 
vinced us  that  he  was  a  victim  to  that  fatal  evil  which 
destroys  the  happiness  of  so  many  homes. 

Our  means  would  not  allow  us  to  do  much  for  the 
poor  child,  but  the  little  that  we  had  to  give  was  given 
cheerfully,  and  with  many  thanks  she  bade  us  good 
evening.  As  she  left  the  room  I  recalled  her,  and 
placing  a  small  piece  of  silver  in  her  hands,  I  said : 

"  You  may  have  this  for  yourself.  I  give  it  to  you 
for  a  Christmas  gift." 

"And  may  I  spend  it  for  what  I  please?"  she 
asked,  her  whole  face  brightening  with  pleasure. 

"  Certainly.     What  will  you  buy  ?  " 

"  O,  a  great  many  things  !  A  present  for  mother 
and  each  of  my  brothers  and  sisters,  and  one  for  poor 
father  too." 


A    DREAM.  79 

"  But,  my  child,  you  have  not  money  enough  to  buy 
something  for  each  one." 

"  O  yes,  ma'am,  a  great  plenty  !  I  will  buy  a  nice 
spool  of  cotton  for  mother,  she  needs  one  very  much, 
and  a  penny  book  for  Mary,  a  whistle  for  Johnny,  a 
cake  for  Thomas,  and  a  stick  of  candy  for  the  baby. 
Then  there  will  be  four  cents  to  spend  for  father,  and 
I  will  go  to  the  cheap  bookstore,  and  ask  them  to  sell 
me  some  good  book,  which  will  teach  him  not  to  drink 
rum  any  more.  He  is  very,  very  kind  when  he  is 
sober." 

"  And  will  you  come  and  see  me  again  next  week, 
and  tell  me  how  they  liked  their  presents  ?  "  I  asked, 
much  interested  by  the  simple,  disinterested  manner 
of  the  child. 

"  Thank  you,  ma'am,  I  will  gladly  do  so,"  was  the 
reply,  and  with  another  grateful  good-evening,  she 
departed. 

This  little  incident  gave  rise  to  a  train  of  sad  reflec- 
tions. Happiness,  it  appeared  to  me,  was  unequally 
distributed.  Even  at  this  most  joyous  season  of  the 
year,  how  few  sunbeams  found  their  way  to  the  homes 
of  the  poor.  Indeed,  their  burdens  must  seem  more 
heavy  to  bear,  when  contrasted  with  the  luxury  and 
gayety  of  the  wealthy.  They  gazed  upon  their  iE-fed, 
half  naked  little  ones,  while  the  children  of  their  more 
prosperous  neighbor  passed  their  door  loaded  with 


80  A   DREAM. 

useless  toys,  the  price  of  which  would  have  seemed  to 
them  a  little  mine  of  wealth.  Oppressed  with  these 
thoughts,  I  laid  my  head  upon  my  pillow,  and  was 
soon  in  the  land  of  dreams. 

Strange  visions  flitted  before  me.  At  one  time  I 
seemed  to  be  revelling  in  the  luxurious  mansions  of 
the  rich,  and  then,  by  some  sudden  and  mysterious 
transformation,  the  extreme  of  want  was  my  portion. 
Suddenly  a  lovely  being  stood  before  me,  whose  very 
presence  seemed  to  fill  my  soul  with  joy.  Taking  my 
hand  in  hers,  she  said,  "  Come  with  me,  and  I  will 
show  thee  that  this  joyous  season  of  the  year  may 
bring  happiness  to  the  homes  of  the  poor,  as  well  as  to 
those  of  the  wealthy.  I  am  the  Spirit  of  Happiness, 
and  in  the  most  humble  abode  on  earth  I  often  find  a 
dwelling-place."  Joyfully  I  yielded  to  her  guidance, 
aud  together  we  seemed  to  traverse  the  busy  streets  of 
the  city.  At  one  of  the  most  splendid  of  the  brilli- 
antly-illuminated mansions  we  paused,  and  in  another 
moment  had  gained  admittance,  and,  apparently  un- 
seen ourselves,  surveyed  the  happy  party  within. 
Young  men  and  mailens  were  gliding  through  the 
graceful  figures  of  the  merry  dance,  lovely  children 
were  sporting  around,  joyfully  displaying  the  Christ- 
mas gifts  of  parents  and  friends  ;  while  a  less  active, 
but  no  less  happy  looking  group,  were  seated  in  a  dis- 
tant part  of  the  room,  gazing  with  quiet  pleasure  upon 


A   DREAM.  31 

their  children  and  grandchildren,  who  at  this  cheerful 
season  had  gathered  around  them.  Every  thing  around 
gave  evidence  of  luxury  and  splendor,  and  turning  to 
my  companion,  I  exclaimed  almost  in  a  tone  of  up- 
braiding : 

"  Yes,  here  indeed  is  happiness.  The  New  Year  is 
to  them  a  time  for  rejoicing,  and  '  Merry  Christmas'  a 
day  of  joyful  expectations  and  realities ;  but  it  is  not 
thus  with  the  poor.  The  words  merriment  and  joy 
would  seem  to  them  a  mockery." 

"  Not  so,  my  friend,"  replied  my  guide.  "  The 
happiness  which  you  see  before  you  is  capable  of  ex- 
tension. These  are  the  mediums  of  the  blessings  of 
Him  whose  birth  into  this  natural  world  they  now 
celebrate.  The  day  which  proclaimed  peace  and  good 
will  upon  earth,  is  well  calculated  to  remind  these 
stewards  of  the  Lord,  that  the  wealth  intrusted  to  their 
charge  is  not  for  themselves  alone.  Behold  that  ven- 
erable old  man.  He  is  the  grandfather  of  this  little 
flock.  Every  year  he  distributes  large  sums  among 
the  poor,  making  his  grandchildren  and  great  grand- 
children his  almoners.  The  happiness  which  you  see 
in  the  countenances  of  the  youth  and  maidens,  the 
innocent  glee  of  the  children,  is  in  a  great  measure 
caused  by  the  joy  which  they  have  this  day  dispensed 
among  the  needy.  Merely  selfish  gratification  would 
not  produce  genuine  contentment  and  joy.  All  selfish 
delights  are  evanescent  and  changeable." 


A   DREAM. 

The  scene  changed,  and  we  stood  in  a  meanly-furn- 
ished apartment  of  one  of  the  most  humble  dwellings 
in  a  narrow  street  of  the  city.  A  father,  mother,  and 
five  children,  were  just  seated  to  partake  of  their  frugal 
meal.  Every  thing  around  told  of  poverty,  but  the 
countenances  of  the  parents  beamed  with  contentment, 
and  the  bright  eyes  of  the  children  shone  with  joy.  In 
the  short  but  fervent  prayer  which  the  father  uttered 
ere  they  commenced  eating,  gratitude  was  expressed 
to  heaven  for  the  blessings  which  this  most  joyful  sea- 
son of  the  year  had  brought  to  them. 

"  For  what  are  they  thus  grateful  ? "  I  inquired. 
"  Contrast  their  situation  with  that  of  the  happy  party 
whom  we  have  just  left." 

"  And  yet  they  are  not  less  happy,"  was  th^  reply. 
"  Listen  to  the  joyful  exclamations  of  the  children." 

I  listened,  and  the  words  of  the  lit.tle  ones  soon  con- 
vinced me  that  my  guide  was  right.  Their  hearts 
seemed  overflowing  with  joy.  The  gifts  which  Christ- 
mas had  brought  to  them  and  their  parents  were, 
mostly,  substantial  articles  of  food  and  clothing  ;  but 
there  was  one  small  package  of  toys  which  had  lost 
the  charm  of  novelty  for  the  children  of  some  wealthy 
neighbor,  and  which,  though  no  longer  new  and  glit- 
tering, were  Avhole  and  good.  In  the  eyes  of  the  poor 
children  they  were  of  inestimable  value,  and  they  gath- 
ered around  them  with  so  much  delight,  that  I  doubted 


A    DREAM.  83 

not  that  they  derived  more  pleasure  from  them  than 
the  original  possessors  had  ever  done. 

Again  the  scene  changed,  and  we  stood  in  a  miser- 
able hovel,  where  sat  a  poor  mother,  with  three  little 
children  clinging  to  her  side,  and  rending  her  heart 
with  their  cries  for  bread.  No  fire  was  on  the  hearth, 
and  the  whole  scene  was  one  of  extreme  poverty  and 
desolation. 

"  Surely  there  is  no  happiness  here,"  I  whispered. 

"  Christmas  will  bring  them  at  least  one  ray,"  re- 
plied my  guide  ;  and  even  as  she  spoke,  a  load  of 
wood  and  coal  stopped  at  their  door,  and  a  man  entered 
to  inform  them  that  he  had  orders  to  supply  them  with 
fuel,  and  desired  to  know  where  it  should  be  put. 
While  the  grateful  woman  was  yet  uttering  heartfelt 
expressions  of  thankfulness,  a  lad  entered  with  a  large 
basket  of  provisions,  which  he  placed  upon  the  table, 
at  the  same  time  slipping  a  bank  note  of  trifling  value 
into  her  hand,  saying  gayly, — 

"  Here  is  a  merry  Christmas  to  you,  my  good 
•woman." 

Tears  streamed  from  the  eyes  of  the  mother,  while 
the  hungry  little  ones  clustered  around  the  basket,  and 
were  soon  bountifully  supplied  with  a  portion  of  its 
contents. 

Deeply  interested  in  this  affecting  little  scene,  I  had 
nearly  forgotten  the  presence  of  my  companion,  when 
a  gentle  whisper  aroused  me. 


84  A   DREAM. 

"  Would  you  see  the  effects  of  your  own  Christmas 
gift  ?  "  and  scarcely  had  I  signified  my  assent,  when 
we  stood  in  another  humble  dwelling,  where  I  recog- 
nized the  little  girl  to  whom  I  had  gi%~en  the  shilling. 
surrounded  by  her  family.  They  had  apparently  ju^t 
received  their  gifts,  for  the  mother  was  smiling  through 
her  tears,  as  she  looked  at  the  spool  of  cotton  which 
lay  on  her  lap  ;  and  Mary,  and  Johnny,  and  Thomas, 
and  the  baby  were  all  in  the  enjoyment  of  the  book, 
the  whistle,  the  cake,  and  the  candy :  while  the  elder 
sister  stood  gazing  on  the  happy  little  group,  herself 
the  happiest  of  them  all,  and  joining  heartily  in  the 
blessings  which  they  heaped  upon  the  good  lady  who 
had  given  her  the  shilling.  In  the  corner  of  the  room 
sat  the  father,  and  in  his  hand  was  the  book  which 
had  been  purchased  at  the  cheap  bookstore  with  the 
four  cents.  I  saw  at  once  that  it  was  a  Testament. 
He  had  not  yet  opened  it,  but  sat  looking  at  his  wife 
and  children  with  a  subdued,  mournful  expression  of 
countenance,  which  awakened  a  strong  conviction  that 
there  was  yet  a  chance  for  his  reformation. 

At  length  little  Mary  approached  him  timidly,  and 
said  : 

"  Look  at  the  book  sister  bought  for  me,  father  ;  it 
is  not  so  large  as  yours.  May  I  look  at  yours  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Mary,  you  may  read  to  me  from  it,  if  you 
like  ;  my  head  aches,  and  I  cannot  read  myself." 


A    DREAM.  85 

The  noisy  mirth  of  the  children  was  hushed,  while 
the  child  read  from  the  Book  of  Life.  Some  of  the 
passages  were  singularly  appropriate,  and  tears  rolled 
down  the  cheeks  of  the  unhappy  man  as  he  listened. 
As  she  paused  at  the  close  of  the  chapter,  the  elder 
girl  drew  to  his  side  and  whispered, — 

"  Will  you  not  pray  with  us,  as  you  used  to  do  long 
ago,  dear  father  ?  " 

As  if  impelled  by  an  irresistible  power,  he  complied. 
Prayer  and  praise  had  long  beeu  strangers  to  his  lips, 
but  now  his  petitions  were  fervent,  his  confessions  of 
past  error  full,  and  expressive  of  deep  humility. 

As  they  rose  from  their  knees,  the  eyes  of  the  hus- 
band and  wife  met,  and  they  fell  into  each  others  arms. 

One  long,  earnest  embrace,  and  then  the  father 
clasped  his  children  to  his  bosom. 

"  With  the  help  of  God,  I  will  no  longer  be  un- 
worthy of  you,"  he  exclaimed.  "  This  precious  little 
Christmas  gift  shall  be  my  guide,  and  in  obedience  to 
its  precepts  we  shall  yet  find  happiness." 

I  uttered  a  joyful  exclamation  and  awoke,  but  the 
remembrance  of  my  dream  was  vividly  present ;  and 
as  the  rays  of  the  morning  sun  beamed  brightly  in  at 
our  windows,  I  felt  a  pleasing  confidence  that  the  day 
would  bring  happiness  to  the  poor  as  well  as  to  the 
rich.  All  reflections  upon  the  visions  of  the  night 
were  soon  banished,  however,  by  the  shouts  of  "Merry 


86  A    DREAM. 

Christmas  "  from  numerous  happy  little  voices  at  our 
door,  and  we  hastened  to  join  in  their  pleasure. 

A  week  passed  by,  and  the  little  heroine  of  Christ- 
mas Eve  again  stood  at  our  door.  It  was  wonderful 
what  a  change  a  few  happy  days  had  wrought  in  her 
appearance  ;  and  her  whole  face  was  radiant  with  joy, 
as  she  told  me  that  they  were  all  so  happy  now. 

"Dear  father  had  promised  never  to  drink  again, 
and  he  had  good  work,  and  they  could  all  live  com- 
fortably." And  again  and  again  she  assured  me  that 
their  happiness  was  all  owing,  through  the  blessing  of 
God,  to  the  little  book  which  she  bought  for  father 
with  a  part  of  my  Christmas  gift. 


NO  TIME  LIKE  THE  PRESENT. 


"  FATHER  !  father !  can  I  go  a-nutting  with  Dick 
Rogers  and  Sam  Roberts?"  shouted  Frank  Wilbur, 
as  he  bounded  into  the  room  where  his  father  was 
seated  at  a  desk,  busily  engaged  in  sorting  some 
papers. 

"  Softly,  my  son,  softly !  "  replied  Mr.  Wilbur  ; 
"  you  will  disturb  your  mother,  who  is  not  very  well, 
you  know.  Where  do  you  wish  to  go  ?  " 

"  Out  in  the  woods,  father.  The  frost  has  cracked 
the  chestnut-burs,  and  the  nuts  are  rattling  down  so 
fast !  " 

"  Have  you  heard  them,  Frank  ?  "  asked  his  father, 
smiling  at  his  eagerness. 

"  No,  father,  I  have  not  heard  them,  because  I  have 
been  at  school ;  but  the  boys  say  so,  and  I  know  they 
are.  There  was  a  real  hard  frost  last  night.  May  I 
go,  father  ?  " 

Mr.  Wilbur  drew  his  watch  from  his  pocket,  and 
looked  at  it  thoughtfully,  as  he  replied, — 
(87) 


88  NO   TIME   LIKE   THE   PRESENT. 

"  You  may  go  if  you  think  it  best,  Frank  ;  but  I 
rather  advise  you  not  to  do  so.  There  is  but  one  hour 
of  daylight  left,  and  a  large  part  of  this  would  be  spent 
in  going  to  and  from  the  woods.  You  have  had  a 
good  play  since  you  came  from  school ;  and  now  is  the 
time  to  look  over  your  lessons  for  to-morrow." 

"  Oh,  no,  father !  "  urged  Frank.  "  This  evening 
or  to-morrow  morning  wall  do  for  the  lessons." 

"  There  is  no  time  like  the  present,  Frank.  Better 
learn  your  lessons  now,  and  put  off  the  nutting  expe- 
dition until  Saturday  afternoon.  That  will  soon  be 
here, — only  day  after  to-morrow." 

But  Frank  felt  unwilling  to  follow  this  advice  ;  and, 
as  i,is  father  gave  him  leave  to  do  as  he  pleased,  he 
hastened  to  get  a  basket  and  join  his  school-fellows. 

"  My  father  says  there  is  no  time  like  the  present 
for  learning  my  lessons,  and  I  think  there  is  no  time 
like  the  present  for  gathering  nuts,"  he  said  to  himself 
as  he  ran  merrily  along. 

But  Frank  had  forgotten  another  of  his  father's 
mottoes,  "  Duty  first,  and  pleasure  afterwards." 

It  must  be  confessed  that  he  was  rather  in  the  habit 
of  delaying  the  performance  of  duties  until  the  last 
moment,  although  he  had  many  times  experienced  the 
bad  results  of  so  doing. 

It  was  indeed  a  long  walk  to  the  chestnut-trees  ; 
and,  after  the  boys  had  entered  the  wood,  it  seemed 
much  darker  than  it  did  before,  and  the  nuts  were  by 


NO    TIME    LIKE   THE   PRESENT.  89 

no  means  "rattling  down"  very  fast.  The  frost  had 
opened  the  burs  a  little,  but  the  nuts  were  still  safely 
enclosed  in  their  prickly  nests. 

"  It  is  too  late  to  get  nuts  to-night,"  said  Sam  Rob- 
erts, the  eldest  of  the  three  boys,  looking  somewhat 
fearfully  around  him ;  for  Sam  was  not  remarkable 
for  his  bravery. 

"What  are  you  afraid  of?"  asked  Dick  Rogers. 
"  It  will  not  be  dark  for  a  long  time  yet,  only  the  trees 
keep  out  the  light ;  besides,  there  is  nothing  to  be 
afraid  of  in  these  woods, — neither  lions,  nor  tigers,  nor 
bears,  nor  wolves.  So  help  me  find  some  good  clubs, 
Frank,  and  we  will  knock  off  some  burs,  at  any  rate." 

"  And,  if  it  grows  too  dark,  we  can  carry  them 
home,  and  get  the  nuts  out  there,"  said  Frank,  as  he 
eagerly  looked  around  for  a  club. 

Sam  felt  somewhat  re-assured  by  the  courage  of  his 
companions  ;  and  all  three  of  the  boys  were  soon  busily 
employed  in  knocking  the  burs  from  the  trees. 

It  was  quite  dusk  when  they  reached  home.  Frank 
found  his  supper  ready  for  him ;  and,  after  this  was 
over,  he  spent  an  hour  or  two  very  pleasantly  in  get- 
ting the  nuts  from  the  burs,  and  roasting  some  of  them 
in  the  kitchen  fire.  His  sister  Clara  enjoyed  this  as 
much  as  he  did  ;  and  they  were  quite  surprised  when 
their  father  came  to  tell  them  that  it  was  half-past 
eight,  and  time  for  them  to  go  to  bed. 
8* 


90  NO   TIME    LIKE    THE    PRESENT. 

"  Can  we  go  into  mother's  room  and  say  good 
night  ?  "  asked  the  children ;  for  their  mother  had  been 
ill  for  some  weeks,  and  had  not  yet  recovered  suf- 
ficiently to  leave  her  room. 

"  Yes,  if  you  will  move  gently,"  replied  Mr.  Wil- 
bur. "  I  think  she  is  not  asleep." 

The  children  opened  the  door  of  their  mother's  room 
very  softly,  and  peeped  in.  She  was  sitting  in  a  large 
easy-chair,  and  smiled  pleasantly  upon  them  as  they 
entered. 

"  You  have  been  very  quiet  this  evening,  my  chil- 
dren," she  said.  "  How  have  you  amused  your- 
selves ?  " 

"  "We  have  been  cracking  chestnut-burs,  and  roast- 
ing some  of  the  nuts,"  answered  Frank.  "  I  went  to 
the  woods  after  school,  and  got  a  fine  lot  of  burs  ;  but 
the  frost  has  not  opened  them  very  well  yet." 

"  I  am  glad  that  you  got  so  many,"  replied  his 
mother.  "  And  are  your  lessons  all  prepared  for  to- 
morrow ?  " 

"O  mother!"  exclaimed  Frank,  "I  have  forgotten 
them  entirely !  I  promised  father  to  study  them  this 
evening.  I  am  very  sorry;  but  I  will  get  up  very 
early  in  the  morning,  and  study  them  before  breakfast. 
Will  that  do,  mother  ?  " 

"  It  would  do,  Frank,  if  you  could  be  sure  that  you 
would  rise  early,  and  that  nothing  would  take  your 


XO   TIME    LIKE    THE    PRESENT.  91 

attention  from  your  lessons.  But  it  is  very  dangerous 
to  delay  the  performance  of  any  duty  until  the  last 
moment.  Perhaps  there  is  time  to  look  over  at  least 
one  lesson  before  you  go  to  bed." 

"  I  am  pretty  sleepy,  mother,"  replied  Frank,  yawn- 
ing. "  I  do  not  think  I  could  understand  the  lessons. 
But  I  will  be  sure  to  get  them  in  the  morning." 

"  I  hope  nothing  will  prevent  you,  my  son  ;  and 
so  now  kiss  me  a  good-night,  and  go  to  your  own 
room." 

"  Will  you  come  down  stairs  to-morrow,  mother  ?  " 
asked  Clara,  as  she  affectionately  twined  her  arms 
around  her  mother's  neck,  and  gave  her  a  good-night 
kiss. 

"Yes,  dear,  if  I  feel  pyetty  well  I  think  I  shall 
come  down  to  breakfast." 

The  children  clapped  their  hands  with  delight,  and 
joyfully  went  to  their  own  rooms. 

Frank's  sleeping-room  was  on  the  west  side  of  the 
house,  and  it  was  not  very  light  there  early  in  the 
morning.  The  clock  was  just  striking  when  Frank 
awoke  the  next  morning. 

"That's  right!"  he  exclaimed,  "just  six  o'clock. 
I  knew  I  should  have  time  to  learn  my  lessons  before 
breakfast " 

But,  to  Frank's  great  astonishment,  the  clock  gave 
another  stroke  after  he  had  counted  six. 


92  NO   TIME    MKK    THK    I'KESENT. 

"  It  cannot  be  seven,"  he  said  to  himself.  "  It  looks 
very  early  yet.  Perhaps  I  counted  too  fast." 

Frank  thought  it  better  to  hurry  to  dress  himself, 
however,  and  was  soon  seated  by  the  window,  with 
his  book  in  his  hand. 

But  he  had  scarcely  commenced  studying  when  the 
breakfast-bell  rung.  Frank  knew  then  that  it  must  be 
half-past  seven ;  and  he  ran  down  stairs,  feeling  a 
good  deal  mortified,  and  somewhat  anxious  as  to  how 
he  should  get  through  his  lessons. 

He  found  his  father  already  seated,  with  the  large 
Bible  open  before  him ;  for  morning  worship  always 
preceded  breakfast.  So  Frank  took  his  place  at  once, 
only  waiting  to  give  his  mother  a  smile  and  a  kiss  ; 
for  he  felt  delighted  to  see  her  in  her  accustomed  seat 
once  more. 

The  family  remained  at  the  breakfast-table  rather 
longer  than  usual,  because  it  seemed  so  pleasant  to  be 
all  together  again  ;  but  at  length  Mr.  Wilbur  rose, 
and  said  he  must  go  to  his  business. 

"  I  am  half  an  hour  behind-hand  this  morning,"  he 
added,  smiling  ;  "  but,  as  it  is  mother's  first  appear- 
ance since  her  illness,  I  did  not  like  to  be  in  haste." 

Frank  cast  his  eyes  toward  the  clock  as  his  father 
spoke,  and  saw  to  his  dismay  that  it  was  half-past  eight. 

"  Are  your  lessons  prepared,  Frank  ?  "  asked  his 
mother  rather  anxiously,  as  he  sprang  up  in  haste. 


NO   TIME    LIKE    THE    PRESENT.  93 

Frank  felt  ashamed  to  say  that  they  were  not,  for 
he  remembered  how  positive  he  had  been  the  evening 
before  that  nothing  could  prevent  him  from  learning 
them  in  the  morning.  But  he  was  an  honest  boy,  and 
told  the  whole  truth  at  once. 

There  was  no  help  for  it  now,  for  it  was  time  for 
him  to  go  to  school ;  and  so,  with  a  heavy  satchel  of 
books  upon  his  shoulder,  and  with  a  heart  almost  as 
heavy  as  the  books,  Frank  bade  his  mother  good- 
morning,  and  set  off  on  his  walk. 

Mental  arithmetic  vras  the  first  lesson.  It  was  al- 
ways a  difficult  one  for  Frank  ;  and,  as  might  have 
been  expected,  he  failed  entirely  in  the  recitation,  and 
was  obliged  to  leave  the  class  and  retire  to  his  seat. 
This  was  but  the  beginning  of  troubles.  The  mortifica- 
tion of  being  sent  from  the  class  in  arithmetic  quite 
unfitted  him  for  learning  his  other  lessons  well.  His 
ne»t  recitation  was  very  imperfect ;  his  sums  were  all 
marked  "wrong ;"  his  writing  was  blotted,  and  looked 
very  badly  ;  in  short,  it  was  a  day  of  misfortunes.  He 
was  not  allowed  to  leave  the  room  at  recess,  and  was 
also  detained  nearly  an  hour  after  school  to  recite  the 
lessons  which  he  had  failed  to  learn  through  the  day. 

It  was  with  a  sad  countenance  that  he  appeared  in 
his  mother's  room  on  his  return  home. 

"Where  is  Clara  ?  "  he  asked,  observing  the  absence 
of  his  sister. 


94  NO   TIME   LIKE   THE   PRESENT. 

"  Gone  to  town  with  your  father,  my  son,"  was  the 
reply. 

There  was  a  large  town  near  the  village  where  Mr. 
Wilbur  resided,  and  the  children  thought  it  a  great 
privilege  to  be  allowed  to  accompany  their  father  when 
business  obliged  him  to  go  there. 

"  Gone  to  town,  mother !  "  echoed  Frank.  "  Are 
they  going  to  see  the  menagerie  ?  " 

"  I  believe  they  are,  Frank." 

"  O  mother !  mother !  why  could  not  I  have  gone 
with  them  ?  "  And,  quite  overcome  by  the  disappoint- 
ment and  the  previous  disasters  of  the  day,  the  poor 
boy  burst  into  tears,  and  hid  his  face  in  his  hands. 

His  mother  pitied  him  very  much  ;  and,  moving  her 
chair  nearer  to  him,  placed  her  hand  gently  and  sooth- 
ingly upon  his  head. 

Frank  was  comforted  by  this,  and  gradually  ceased 
his  sobs,  and,  seating  himself  at  his  mother's  feet,  laid 
his  head  in  her  lap. 

"  Your  father  waited  more  than  half  an  hour  after 
the  usual  time  of  your  return  from  school,  my  son. 
He  could  not  wait  longer,  as  it  would  have  made  it  too 
late  for  him  to  attend  to  his  business.  Why  did  you 
net  come  home  sooner  ?  " 

"  I  could  not,  mother.  I  was  kept  after  school 
because  I  did  not  know  my  lessons,"  answered  Frank, 
sadly. 


NO   TIME    LIKE   THE    PRESENT.  95 

"  And  why  did  you  not  know  them,  Frank  ?  Were 
you  idle  ?  " 

"  No,  mother,  I  was  not  idle  ;  I  really  tried  to  learn 
them,  but  somehow  they  would  not  stay  in  my  mind. 
I  think  it  was  all  because  I  did  not  know  my  first 
lesson  this  morning ;  and  that  made  me  feel  so  sorry 
and  ashamed  that  I  could  not  get  the  next  one  ;  and 
then  I  was  sorry  again,  and  could  not  get  the  third ; 
and  so  on.  One  lesson  knocked  the  other  down,"  con- 
tinued Frank,  smiling  a  little,  "  just  as  one  card-house 
knocks  the  other,  when  I  build  the  row  of  tents." 

His  mother  smiled  also  at  this  comparison,  for  she 
was  glad  to  have  Frank  feel  cheerful  again. 

"  And  why  did  you  not  know  your  first  lesson  ? " 
she  asked.  "We  must  find  out  what  gave  the  first 
blow  to  your  tents ;  for,  if  we  know  the  cause  of  the 
evil,  we  can  perhaps  find  a  remedy  for  the  future." 

"  The  first  lesson  is  in  mental  arithmetic,  mother, 
and  the  boys  are  expected  to  learn  it  at  home.  I  got 
up  too  late  to  study  it  this  morning ;  and  so,  of  course, 
I  did  not  know  it." 

"  But  yesterday  afternoon  was  the  time  to  study  it, 
Frank.  An  hour  before  tea  is  the  rule.  Your  school 
closes  at  three,  and  this  leaves  you  time  for  a  good 
play  until  half-past  five ;  then  you  should  study  till 
half-past  six." 

"  But  I  went  to  the  woods  for  nuts,  mother.  I  wish 
father  had  not  given  me  leave  to  go." 


96  NO   TIME    LIKE    THE    PRESENT. 

"  Your  father  likes  to  leave  you  in  freedom  some- 
times," replied  his  mother.  "  He  wishes  you  to  ob- 
serve and  feel  the  consequences  of  your  own  actions." 

"  Well,  I  have  felt  the  consequences  this  time,  and 
they  are  bad  enough,"  said  Frank,  sighing.  "You  do 
not  know  how  much  I  want  to  go  to  the  menagerie, 
mother." 

"  I  know  you  want  to  go  very  much,  and  I  feel 
much  grieved  at  your  disappointment,  Frank ;  but  the 
misfortunes  of  the  day  may  be  a  useful  lesson  to  you 
through  your  whole  life,  if  you  will  try  to  profit  by 
them." 

"  I  will,  mother.  I  am  resolved  to  act  up  to  father's 
motto  in  future, — '  There  is  no  time  like  the  present.' 
You  will  see  that  all  my  duties  will  be  done  in  proper 
time." 

"  I  hope  so,  my  son.  A  habit  of  promptness,  in  the 
performance  of.  even  the  most  trifling  duties,  will  be 
invaluable  to  you  through  life." 

"  For  a  good  beginning,  mother,"  continued  Frank, 
"  I  will  learn  my  lesson  for  the  morning  now,  before 
Clara  comes  home,  and  then  I  shall  be  at  leisure  to 
talk  to  her." 

"  I  shall  be  glad  to  have  you  do  so,  Frank.  And 
now  I  will  tell  you  that  your  father  intends  going  to 
towu  again  on  Saturday,  and,  if  you  are  a  good  boy, 
will  then  take  you  to  the  menagerie." 

Frank's  face  grew  bright  with  pleasure. 


NO   TIME    LIKE   THE    PRESENT.  97 

"  I  am  very  glad  !  "  he  exclaimed.  "  But  why  did 
you  not  tell  me  before,  mother  ?  " 

"  I  thought  it  better  not  to  do  so,  my  son.  And 
now  get  your  book,  and  I  will  explain  the  lesson  to 
you." 

Frank  obeyed  ;  and  the 'next  half-hour  was  a  pleasant 
one,  although  the  dreaded  arithmetic  was  in  his  hand. 

Our  young  readers  will  wish  to  know  whether 
Frank  kept  his  resolution  of  never  delaying  the  per- 
formance of  duties  ;  and  if  they  will  pass  over  with  us 
the  lapse  of  some  six  or  seven  years,  and  take  another 
peep  at  him  as  a  young  man  of  seventeen,  they  will, 
Ave  think,  be  able  to  answer  the  question  to  their  own 
satisfaction. 

Frank  was  now  the  only  earthly  protector  of  his 
mother  and  sister,  for  Mr.  Wilbur  had  been  removed 
to  the  spiritual  world  about  two  years  before.  He 
had  left  but  little  property  ;  and  Mrs.  Wilbur  found  it 
better  to  leave  her  pleasant  home  in  the  village,  and 
hire  rooms  in  the  town  to  which  Frank  and  Clara  used 
to  love  to  go  when  they  were  children.  Frank  was 
very  desirous  to  earn  something  to  aid  in  their  sup- 
port ;  and  his  mother  at  length  found  a  good  situation 
for  him  in  a  large  shipping-store.  His  salary  was 
small,  however ;  and  Mrs.  Wilbur  and  Clara  were 
obliged  to  take  fine  sewing  to  do,  and,  even  with  this 
9 


98  NO   TIME   LIKE   THE   PRESENT. 

assistance,  found  it  difficult  to  maintain  themselves 
comfortably. 

"  To-morrow  I  shall  be  seventeen,  mother !  "  sud- 
denly exclaimed  Frank,  as  he  sat  thoughtfully  gazing 
into  the  fire  one  evening  after  his  return  from  the  store. 

"  Yes,  my  son,"  answered  his  mother.  "  You  are 
almost  a  man." 

"  And  I  ought  to  be  able  to  take  care  of  you  and 
Clara,  mother.  My  salary  is  too  small.  I  know  that 
my  services  are  worth  more  than  Mr.  Lewiston  pays 
me." 

"  That  may  be,  Frank  ;  but  he  gives  you  as  much 
as  it  is  customary  to  allow  boys  of  your  age.  I  do 
not  know  that  we  ought  to  expect  him  to  do  more." 

"  I  cannot  bear  to  have  you  and  Clara  work  so  con- 
stantly, mother.  I  am  the  one  to  work." 

His  mother  smiled  affectionately  upon  him  as  she 
replied, — 

"  You  do  work  for  us  all  the  time,  Frank,  and  we 
love  to  look  to  you  for  help ;  but  it  cannot  be  supposed 
that,  at  your  age,  you  can  support  us  entirely." 

Just  at  this  moment,  Clara  put  the  last  stitches  to 
the  work  upon  which  she  was  engaged ;  and,  throwing 
it  aside,  she  said  joyfully, — 

"  Come,  Frank,  I  have  finished  work  for  this  eve- 
ning. Bring  your  flute,  and  I  will  sing  the  new  song 
that  we  like  so  much." 


NO   TIME    LIKE   THE   PRESENT.  99 

Frank  readily  complied ;  and  Mrs.  Wilbur  listened 
with  delight  as  Clara's  sweet  voice  mingled  with  the 
soft  notes  of  her  brother's  flute. 

But,  at  the  end  of  the  first  song,  Frank  rose  hur- 
riedly, as  if  suddenly  recollecting  something,  saying  as 
he  did  so, — 

"  Mother,  I  must  go  back  to  the  store  for  a  little 
while." 

"  Go  back  to  the  store,  my  son !  For  what  pur- 
pose, at  this  hour  ?  " 

"  A  cask  of  gunpowder  was  brought  there  this  after- 
noon, mother,  and  I  fear  that  it  was  not  put  in  a  place 
of  safety.  We  have  a  particular  place  for  keeping  it, 
in  order  to  guard  against  accidents.  It  was  given  in 
charge  to  our  head  clerk ;  but  he  was  unexpectedly 
called  away  this  evening,  and  I  do  not  feel  sure  that 
he  attended  to  it." 

"  But  as  you  were  not  desired  to  take  care  of  it, 
Frank,  will  it  not  answer  to  leave  it  where  it  is  until 
morning  ? "  asked  Mrs.  Wilbur,  for  the  walk  was  a 
long  one,  and  she  felt  sorry  to  have  Frank  go  at  so 
late  an  hour. 

"  You  can  move  it  to-morrow,  when  you  open  the 
store,"  urged  Clara.  "  You  will  need  some  one  to 
help  you,  and  there  is  no  one  there  to-night." 

"  There  are  men  enough  near  by,"  replied  Frank, 
smiling.  "I  think  I  will  go,  mother.  I  do  not  love 


100  NO   TIME   LIKE   THE   PRESENT. 

to  leave  this  pleasant  room,  especially  as  Clara  is 
ready  to  sing  with  me  ;  but  I  believe  it  is  my  duty  to 
attend  to  that  powder  immediately.  There  is  no  time 
like  the  present,  you  know,  mother.  I  do  not  forget 
father's  motto." 

"You  have  always  remembered  it  well  since  the 
day  of  misfortunes  at  school,"  answered  his  mother, 
"  and  I  will  not  urge  you  to  act  contrary  to  it  now. 
Go,  if  you  think  it  your  duty." 

And  Frank  went.  As  he  expected,  the  gunpowder 
had  not  been  put  in  a  place  of  security.  He  attended 
to  its  removal,  and  then,  with  a  quick  step  and  a  light 
heart,  returned  home.  Clara  had  already  retired  to 
rest,  and  his  mother  was  only  awaiting  bis  return  to 
follow  her  example.  Soon  all  were  sleeping  quietly. 

An  alarm  of  fire  in  the  middle  of  the  night,  ana  the 
noise  of  the  engines  as  they  passed,  aroused  Frank  ; 
and,  on  looking  from  his  window,  he  felt  convinced 
that  the  light  was  in  the  direction  of  the  store  in  which 
he  was  employed. 

Hastily  dressing  himself,  and  pausing  at  his  mother's 
door  to  tell  her  where  he  was  going,  he  was  soon 
walking  rapidly  to  the  spot. 

As  he  approached,  he  felt  relieved  at  finding  that 
the  fire  had  not  originated  in  the  store,  as  he  had  at 
first  feared.  It  was,  however,  fearfully  near  ;  and,  in 
spite  of  the  efforts  of  the  firemen,  one  part  of  it  was 
soon  in  flames. 


NO   TIME    LIKE    THE    PRESENT.  101 

It  was  at  this  moment  that  Frank  arrived  at  the 
scene  of  action  ;  and,  at  the  same  instant,  Mr.  Lewis- 
ton  and  the  .head  clerk  came  running  from  opposite 
directions. 

Frank  followed  his  employer  as  he  was  hastily  pass- 
ing into  the  store,  hoping  that  the  most  valuable  goods 
might  be  removed  ;  but  they  were  both  forcibly  pulled 
back  by  the  clerk,  who,  with  a  countenance  full  of  hor- 
ror, exclaimed, — 

"  The  powder !  O,  Mr.  Lewiston,  I  did  not  remove 
it ;  and  the  fire  is  in  that  part  of  the  building ! " 

Mr.  Lewistou  uttered  an  exclamation  of  despair, 
and  was  springing  from  the  door,  when  Frank  laid  his 
hand  upon  his  arm. 

"  All  is  right,  Mr.  Lewiston.  I  saw  the  powder 
properly  stored." 

"  Bless  you,  my  boy ! "  was  the  heartfelt  reply ; 
and,  relieved  from  this  dreadful  fear,  all  hands  were 
soon  at  Avork  to  rescue  the  property  from  the  devour- 
ing flames. 

But  the  firemen  had  now  gained  the  victory,  and 
the  fire  was  extinguished  before  it  had  reached  the 
main  part  of  the  building.  Only  the  left  wing  was 
burned  ;  but  it  was  there  that,  the  powder  had  been 
placed,  and  from  there  Frank  had  removed  it,  in  his 
late  visit  at  the  store  the  previous  evening.  He  thanked 
the  Lerd  that  he  had  done  this,  as  he  thought  of  the 
9* 


102  NO    TIME   LIKE   THE    PRESENT. 

dreadful  loss  of  life  and  property  which  might  other- 
wise have  taken  place. 

Again  the  little  party  had  assembled  around  the 
table  to  enjoy  their  pleasant  evening  chat.  It  was  on 
the  day  after  the  fire,  Frank's  serenteenth  birthday. 

"And  now,  mother,  I  have  a  piece  of  good  news  to 
tell  you,"  he  said,  as  he  finished  the  recital  of  the 
adventures  of  the  previous  night ;  for,  at  Clara's  re- 
quest, he  had  told  the  story  a  second  time. 

"  Mr.  Lewiston  has  doubled  my  salary  ;  and,  more- 
over, he  assures  me  that  he  will  continue  to  advance 
me,  and  will  at  some  future  time  endeavor  to  establish 
me  in  business  for  myself.  And  now,  Miss  Clara, 
you  may  put  away  your  needle,  and  read  and  study  a 
part  of  your  time ;  and  mother  will  no  longer  be  so 
incessantly  occupied  with  her  work,  but  will  have 
leisure  to  take  some  air  and  exercise,  and  she  will 
look  bright  and  happy  again,  as  she  used  to  when  dear 
father  lived  with  us." 

"  I  ought  to  look  happy  when  I  have  such  kind  chil- 
dren to  take  care  of  me,"  answered  Mrs.  Wilbur, 
smiling  through  her  tears. 

"I  am  so  glad  you  .went  back  to  the  store  last  eve- 
ning, Frank  !  "  exclaimed  Clara.  "  I  will  never  again 
try  to  persuade  you  to  neglect  the  prompt  performance 
of  any  duty." 


NO    TIME    LIKE   THE    PRESENT.  103 

"  It  will  be  a  lesson  to  both  of  us,"  replied  Frank. 
"  You  do  not  know  how  happy  I  felt  this  morning 
when  our  head  clerk  offered  me  his  hand,  and  told  me 
that  I  had  saved  him  from  a  life  of  misery ;  for,  had 
there  been  an  explosion,  he  shoufd  have  considered 
himself  as  the  cause  of  the  disasters  which  must  have 
followed." 

"  It  must  make  you  very  happy  to  think  that  you 
have  been  the  means  of  preventing  so  frightful  a 
calamity,"  answered  Mrs.  Wilbur>  "  The  lesson  is 
indeed  a  useful  one  to  us  all ;  and  in  every  duty, 
whether  great  or  small,  we  will  ever  bear  in  mind 
your  favorite  motto,  "  '  There  is  no  time  like  the 
present.'  " 


THE  LITTLE  MATCH  BOY. 


"  DON'T  cry,  mother.  I  shall  soon  be  older  and  stronger, 
and  then  I  can  do  more  for  you  and  little  sister.  You 
shall  never  want  for  bread  when  I  am  a  man.  Don't 
cry,  mother,  please  don't ;  it  breaks  my  heart." 

The  speaker  was  a  manly  little  fellow  of  some  seven 
years.  His  countenance  would  have  been  beautiful, 
but  for  an  expression  of  premature  and  anxious  care, 
and  a  look  of  patient  suffering  which  it  was  painful  to 
see  on  the  face  of  happy  childhood. 

One  arm  was  thrown  around  the  neck  of  a  pale,  sad- 
looking  woman,  while  the  other  clasped  a  chubby  little 
girl,  who,  smiling  through  her  tears,  lisped,  in  her 
pretty  childish  accents, 

"  Don't  cry,  mother.     Rosy  loves  you." 

There  was  comfort  in  this.     The  last  crust  of  bread 

had  been  eaten,  and  not  a  solitary  sixpence  remained 

to  buy  another  loaf.     The  mother  was  too  feeble  and 

ill  to  ply  her  needle  with  that  unremitting  diligence 

(104) 


THE   LITTLE   MATCH   BOY.  105 

which  was  necessary  for  the  support  of  her  little  ones. 
Her  strength  had  already  been  too  severely  taxed ;  and 
now  the  time  had  come  when  Nature  could  no  longer 
support  the  heavy  burden.  The  future  was  very,  very 
dark ;  and  yet  the  mother's  heart  was  comforted  by 
the  innocent  love  of  her  darlings.  She  wiped  away 
those  bitter  tears,  and  tried  to  smile,  as  she  clasped 
them  to  her  bosom. 

"  My  good  Ernest,"  she  exclaimed,  "  my  sweet  little 
Rosy,  I  will  weep  no  more.  Our  Heavenly  Father 
careth  even  for  the  sparrows.  Surely  He  will  not  for- 
sake us  in  our  hour  of  need.  You  must  go  to  Mr. 
Thayer's,  my  son,  and  see  if  he  will  give  me  some 
more  work.  Tell  him  that  I  have  been  very  ill,  but 
am  better  now,  and  should  be  glad  of  employment.. 
Tell  him,  also,  that  it  would  be  a  great  relief  to  me  if 
he  would  pay  me  one  dollar  in  advance.  Perhaps  he 
will  do  this  for  me." 

"  If  he  does  not,  he  will  be  a  cross  man,"  said 
Ernest,  "  for  he  has  a  pocket-book  full  of  dollars.  I 
saw  them  the  last  time  I  was  there." 

"  Yes,  dear ;  but  he  employs  a  great  many  people, 
and  has  to  pay  out  a  great  deal  of  money." 

"  You  are  not  able  to  sew,  mother,"  said  Ernest, 
thoughtfully,  as  he  took  up  his  hat.  "  It  will  bring 
back  the  bad  pain  in  your  side." 

"  Perhaps  not,  Ernest.     At  any  rate,  I  must  try. 


106  THE   LITTLE   MATCH   BOY. 

Go  now,  my  son,  for  I  have  no  bread  to  give  little 
Rosy  for  her  dinner ;  and  you,  too,  will  soon  be  hun- 

gry." 

The  heart  of  the  boy  swelled  almost  to  bursting,  as 
he  obeyed  his  mother's  command.  For  many  weeks 
she  had  been  stretched  on  the  bed  of  sickness  ;  and  the 
kind  physician,  whom  she  was  at  length  obliged  to  call 
in,  had  said,  in  Ernest's  hearing,  that  she  needed  rest ; 
that  such  constant  exertion  would  certainly  cause  her 
death. 

"  And  now  she  has  sent  me  for  the  sewing  again," 
sobbed  the  poor  child,  "  and  I  know  it  will  kill  her  : 
and  then,  what  will  become  of  poor  little  Rosy  and 
me.  Oh  !  how  I  wish  I  was  older.  If  I  could  only 
earn  a  very  little,  it  would  be  some  help.  Is  there 
nothing  in  the  world  that  little  boys  can  do  ?  " 

As  Ernest  said  this,  the  shrill  cry  of  a  match  boy 
attracted  his  attention  ;  and  a  bright  thought  entered 
his  mind. 

He  could  carry  a  basket,  surely.  It  could  not  be 
so  heavy  as  the  baskets  of  wood  and  blocks  which  he 
often  picked  up  around  the  new  buildings  for  his 
mother.  And  he  could  call  matches,  and  sell  them, 
too,  and  take  the  money  to  his  mother.  And  then, 
hoAv  comfortable  she  would  be ;  and  she  would  not 
have  to  work  so  hard. 

Pleasant  visions  of  tea  and  bread,  and  even  of  a 


THE   LITTLE   MATCH   BOY.  107 

pound  of  butter,  passed  before  Ernest's  eyes  ;  but  then 
an  unexpected  difficulty  arose.  Where  was  the  sum 
necessary  for  the  outfit  to  come  from?  It  certainly 
did  not  need  a  very  extensive  capital ;  but  dollars,  or 
even  shillings,  were  hard  to  find.  Ernest  had  not 
answered  the  question  to  his  satisfaction,  when  he 
found  himself  at  the  door  of  the  building,  where  he 
was  to  obtain  the  work  for  his  mother.  There  was 
little  trouble  in  making  the  desired  arrangement.  Mrs. 
Lawrence  was  well  known  at  the  establishment  as  an 
excellent  workwoman ;  and  the  work,  and  the  dollar 
in  advance,  were  readily  furnished. 

Encouraged  by  this  success,  Ernest  involuntarily 
exclaimed, 

"Oh,  how  I  wish  that  some  one  would  lend  me  a 
dollar ! " 

"  And  what  would  you  do  with  a  dollar,  my  little 
man  ? "  inquired  a  gentleman  standing  by,  attracted 
by  the  earnestness  of  the  boy's  manner. 

Ernest  blushed  deeply,  but  answered,  in  a  firm  tone, 

"  J  would  buy  a  basket  and  some  matches,  and  other 
things,  and  sell  them  in  the  street ;  and  then  my  poor 
mother  would  not  have  to  work  so  hard." 

"You  are  a  good  son,"  was  the  reply ;  "and  I  would 
willingly  lend  you  the  dollar,  if  I  thought  you  were  old 
enough  to  carry  out  the  plan." 

"  Only  try  me,  sir  !  "  exclaimed  the  animated  child. 
"  Only  try  me !  You  shall  see  that  I  can  do  it." 


108  THE   LITTLE   MATCH    BOY. 

At  this  moment,  a  hasty  summons  from  a  friend 
reminded  the  gentleman  that  he  must  not  miss  an 
approaching  omnibus.  He  placed  a  dollar  in  Ernest's 
hand  ;  and  without  waiting  to  hear  his  expressions  of 
gratitude,  sprung  into  the  coach,  and  was  soon  out 
of  sight. 

With  rapid  steps,  Ernest  passed  through  the  crowded 
streets,  until  he  turned  down  the  narrow  alley  which 
led  to  his  own  home. 

His  delight  was  almost  too  great  for  utterance  ;  and 
he  clasped  his  arms  around  his  mother's  neck,  and 
fairly  sobbed  for  joy. 

'•What  is  the  matter,  my  dear  son?"  exclaimed 
Mrs.  Lawrence,  in  alarm.  "What  new  misfortune 
has  befallen  us  !  Would  not  Mr.  Thayer  give  me 
employment  ?  " 

"  Oh  yes,  mother ;  yes,  indeed ;  and  here  is  the 
dollar  he  sent  you.  I  am  not  crying  because  I  am 
sorry,  mother.  My  heart  is  very  glad.  You  will  not 
have  to  work  so  hard  any  more,  mother ;  and  I  shall 
help  to  support  you  and  little  Rosy.  See  what  a  kind 
friend  has  lent  me."  And  as  Ernest  spoke,  he  held 
up  the  dollar  which  the  gentleman  had  given  him. 

"  And  how  will  this  enable  you  to  support  us,  my 
child  ? "  asked  the  widow,  in  astonishment,  for  she 
could  not  understand  the  meaning  of  Ernest's  words. 

"  You  shall  see,  mother.     I  will  try  my  best,  and 


THE   LITTLE   MATCH    BOY.  109 

our  Heavenly  Father  will  help  me.  This  dollar  will 
buy  me  a  basket,  and  a  few  things  to  put  in  it ;  and 
when  I  have  sold  those,  I  can  buy  some  more.  You 
do  not  know  how  well  I  can  call  matches,  mother  ; " 
and  he  imitated  the  shrill  cry  so  skilfully,  that  Rosy 
clapped  her  hands  with  admiration,  and  even  his  mother 
smiled  at  his  enthusiasm. 

But  it  was  a  sad  smile  ;  for  it  was  a  trial  to  her  to 
have  Ernest  commence  this  new  mode  of  life.  He 
was  a  bright  boy,  and  a  good  scholar  for  his  age  ;  and 
she  had  hoped  that  he  would  continue  steadily  at 
school,  until  he  had  acquired  a  good  education. 

But  something  must  be  done  for  their  relief ;  and  it 
was  possible  that  the  boy's  small  earnings  might  .at 
least  help  to  supply  their  scanty  food. 

So  the  basket  was  bought,  and  a  moderate  supply 
of  matches  and  other  trifling  articles  placed  in  it ;  and 
early  on  the  following  morning,  Ernest  commenced  his 
new  life. 

His  neat  appearance,  and  bright,  animated  counte- 
nance, were  so  prepossessing,  that  many  who  observed 
him  were  disposed  to  buy ;  and  one  kind  lady  even 
bestowed  an  extra  sixpence  upon  him,  because  he 
thanked  her  so  gratefully  for  buying  half-a-dozen 
boxes  of  his  matches. 

With  a  joyful  heart,  he  placed  his  earnings  in  his 
mother's  hands. 

10 


110  THE   LITTLE   MATCH  BOY. 

"  Look,  mother !  "  he  exclaimed,  "  all  this,  besides 
what  I  need  to  buy  more  things  with,  and  the  sixpence 
which  I  have  laid  aside  toward  paying  the  dollar. 
You  know  I  must  lay  by  some  every  clay  to  pay  the 
gentleman.  But  how  am  I  to  find  him,  mother  ?  I 
never  thought  to  ask  where  he  lived." 

"He  probably  meant  to  give  you  the  money,  Ernest, 
or  he  would  have  told  you  where  to  bring  it." 

"  Oh  no,  mother,  he  only  lent  it  to  me  ;  I  will  pay 
it  back,  if  I  search  the  city  to  find  him.  How  much 
I  thank  him  for  his  kindness." 

"And  I  thank  him  too,"  said  little  Rosy.  "Now, 
we  shall  never  be  poor  any  more — shall  we,  Ernest?" 

4'  I  think  not,"  replied  Ernest.  "  Mother  shall  have 
a  cup  of  tea  every  evening  ;  and  after  a  little  while, 
Rosy,  we  will  have  butter  to  eat  on  our  bread,  and"  I 
will  buy  you  a  pretty  new  frock." 

"  Poor  children  !  "  thought  the  mother,  as  she  gazed 
fondly  upon  them.  "How  little  it  takes  to  make  them 
happy !  " 

It  was  really  wonderful  what  success  attended  our 
little  match  boy.  Not  only  were  many  daily  comforts 
provided,  but  quite  a  sum  was  laid  by  for  time  of  need. 
Ernest  was  almost  too  happy  when  he  saw  both  his 
mother  and  Rosy  dressed  neatly  in  frocks  which  had 
been  bought  with  his  earnings ;  and  his  only  trouble 
was,  that  he  had  not  yet  been  able  to  discover  the  good 
gentleman  who  had  lent  him  the  first  dollar. 


THE    LITTLE    MATCH    BOY.  Ill 

"  I  should  so  love  to  thank  him,  and  tell  him  how 
nicely  we  are  getting  along,"  he  would  sometimes  say. 
"  Your  cheeks  are  not  quite  so  pale  as  they  used  to  be 
when  you  sewed  so  many  hours  in  the  night,  mother. 
I  am  very  glad  that  I  am  old  enough  to  help  you." 

"You  are  a  great  help  to  me,  indeed,  my  son," 
replied  Mrs.  Lawrence  ;  "  but  I  feel  anxious  that  you 
should  have  a  little  time  to  devote  to  your  learning. 
We  have  some  money  laid  by  now,  and  I  think  you 
may  let  your  basket  rest  for  awhile,  and  attend  school." 

Ernest  loved  his  books,  and  his  eyes  brightened  at 
the  thought  of  school ;  but  after  a  moment's  thought, 
he  said, 

"  It  would  not  do,  mother,  to  give  up  my  basket 
altogether,  because  there  are  a  good  many  kind  ladies 
who  buy  many  things  from  me,  and  always  wait  for 
me  to  come  ;  and  besides,  we  should  soon  spend  the 
little  money  that  we  have,  and  then  you  would  have  to 
work  so  hard  again.  But  I  will  study,  mother ;  you 
will  help  me,  and  I  will  try  my  best.  I  can  spare 
two  or  three  hours  every  day  for  my  books." 

And  from  that  time,  with  his  mother's  help,  and  his 
own  patient  industry,  Ernest  made  rapid  progress ; 
and  even  found  leisure  to  instruct  his  little  sister  in 
several  branches. 

Rosy  was  an  active  little  girl,  and  loved  to  make 
herself  useful.  It  was  her  busy  fingers  that  placed 


112  THE   LITTLE   MATCH   BOY. 

everything  in  such  neat  and  attractive  order  in  her 
brother's  basket ;  and  it  was  she,  also,  who  made  the 
room  look  so  very  bright  and  cheerful,  to  welcome  his 
return.  While  her  mother  was  engaged  with  her  sew- 
ing, she  would  sweep  the  floor,  wipe  every  particle  of 
dust  from  the  scanty  furniture,  set  the  table,  and  do 
everything  that  one  so  young  could  do  toward  preparing 
their  frugal  meal. 

"  See,  Ernest,"  she  said,  as  her  brother  seated  him- 
self by  her  side  one  evening,  after  the  tea  table  was 
cleared  away,  and  Mrs.  Lawrence  had  resumed  her 
work.  "  See  how  nicely  I  have  pasted  this  strip  of 
sand  paper  over  the  mantel-piece,  that  you  may  have  a 
place  to  light  the  match  upon  when  you  kindle  the  fire 
for  mother  in  the  morning." 

"  Yes,  it  looks  very  nicely,"  answered  Ernest ;  "  and 
I  will  try  to  remember  never  to  draw  the  matches 
across  the  wall  any  more,  since  it  leaves  such  ugly 
marks.  But,  Rosy,  I  see  those  same  marks  in  very 
nice  houses  sometimes." 

"  Perhaps  they  did  not  think  about  pasting  up  sand 
paper,"  replied  Rosy,  thoughtfully ;  and  then,  after  a 
moment's  pause,  she  added,  "  You  might  cut  some 
little  strips,  Ernest,  and  sell  them  with  your  matches." 

"  I  might  do  something  better  than  that,"  exclaimed 
her  brother,  as  a  sudden  thought  struck  him.  "If 
mother  will  give  us  some  paste,  and  you  will  let  me 


THE    LITTLE    MATCH    BOY.  113 

use  some  of  your  pasteboard  and  bits  of  colored  paper 
which  the  paper  hanger,  next  door,  gave  you,  I  think 
I  can  make  something  very  pretty  to  hold  matches, 
and  light  them  too." 

The  paste  and  paper  were  readily  supplied,  but 
Ernest  soon  found  that  it  was  quite  beyond  his  skill  to 
carry  out  the  plan  which  he  had  formed  ;  and  he  was 
delighted  when  his  mother  laid  aside  her  work,  and 
offered  to  assist  him. 

With  her  help,  a  stiff  piece  of  pasteboard,  seven  or 
eight  inches  square,  was  partly  covered  with  sand 
paper,  and  neatly  bordered  with  colored  paper.  Two 
little  round  cases  were  then  fastened  upon  the  upper 
part  of  the  card,  to  hold  the  matches ;  and  a  small 
hole  was  made  in  the  middle,  so  that  it  could  be  hung 
upon  a  nail  driven  into  the  wall. 

Ernest  and  Rosy  fairly  jumped  for  joy  when  the  first 
one  was  completed  and  placed  upon  the  mantel-piece  to 
dry.  The  second  one  was  made  much  quicker  than 
the  first ;  and  Mrs.  Lawrence  soon  became  so  expert, 
that  she  had  finished  half  a  dozen  in  a  very  short  time. 
These  were  enough  for  an  experiment.  Ernest  was 
sure  they  would  sell  for  sixpence  a-piece ;  and  after  he 
went  to  bed,  he  could  hardly  close  his  eyes,  his  mind 
was  so  busy  thinking  what  a  little  fortune  he  should 
make  with  this  pretty  invention. 

His  expectations  were  not  disappointed.  At  every 
10* 


114  THE   LITTLE   MATCH    BOY. 

house  where  he  called  with  his  basket,  the  match  cases 
were  noticed  and  admired ;  and  before  he  had  been  an 
hour  from  home,  he  had  sold  the  last  one,  and  with  a 
light  heart  returned  to  tell  his  success  to  his  mother. 

A  fresh  supply  was  soon  obtained ;  and  for  several 
days,  he  was  equally  successful  in  disposing  of  them. 

At  one  house,  where  a  little  girl  had  purchased  one 
of  the  first  cases  which  had  been  made,  he  received  an 
order  for  half-a-dozen,  to  be  furnished  as  soon  as 
possible. 

uAnd  be  sure  to  make  them  very  pretty,  little  boy," 
said  the  young  girl,  as  she  stood  at  the  door  talking 
with  Ernest ;  "  for  my  father  will  look  at  them  him- 
self, and  he  will  want  them  very  nice.  He  was  quite 
pleased  when  I  showed  him  the  one  which  I  bought 
the  other  day,  and  he  said  you  were  an  ingenious 
boy." 

"My  mother  makes  the  greater  part  of  them,  Miss," 
replied  Ernest,  blushing.  "  We  will  do  our  best  to 
please  you." 

Rosy  had  been  uncommonly  successful,  that  day,  in 
collecting  pretty  pieces  of  colored  paper ;  and  the  six 
little  cases,  far  prettier  than  any  which  had  been  made 
before,  were  soon  completed  and  placed  upon  the  man- 
tel-piece to  dry,  that  they  might  be  in  readiness  for 
Ernest's  morning  expedition. 

Very  happy  he  felt,  as  with  his   basket  upon  his 


THE    LITTLE    MATCH    BOY.  115 

arm,  he  knocked  at  the  basement  door  of  the  handsome 
h'ouse  where  he  had  often  sold  his  little  wares,  and 
inquired  of  the  girl  who  opened  the  door,  if  he  could 
see  the  young  lady. 

"  Oh,  you  are  Miss  Ellen's  little  match  boy,"  was 
the  reply.  "  Wait  a  moment,  and  I  will  call  her." 

Just  then  the  door  of  the  breakfast  room  opened, 
and  Miss  Ellen  herself  appeared. 

"  Have  you  brought  them  so  soon  ?  "  she  exclaimed, 
•joyfully,  as  Ernest  eagerly  displayed  his  treasures. 
"  Oh,  they  are  very  pretty !  Come  with  me,  and  I 
will  show  them  to  papa.  He  has  finished  his  break- 
fast, and  is  reading  the  morning  paper.  Come  right 
along.  Do  not  be  afraid." 

Ernest  took  off  his  hat,  and  followed  his  little  con- 
ductress into  the  front  basement.  A  pleasant-looking 
gentleman  sat  in  an  arm-chair,  with  a  newspaper  in 
his  hand. 

"  Here  is  the  little  match  boy,  papa,"  said  Ellen,  as 
they  entered.  "  He  has  brought  the  cases  which  you 
wished  for.  Look  !  are  they  not  pretty  ?  " 

"  Very  pretty,  my  daughter,  and  very  neatly  made. 
What  is  your  name,  my  little  lad  ?  " 

But  Ernest  made  no  reply.  He  was  looking  intently 
and  eagerly  at  the  gentleman,  and  after  a  moment's 
pause,  exclaimed, 

"  It  must  be  the  very  one  !     I  am  so  glad  !  " 


116  THE   LITTLE    MATCH    BOY. 

"  Glad  of  what,  my  little  fellow  ?  "  asked  the  gen- 
tleman, smiling. 

"Glad  to  find  you,  Sir.  Do  you  not  remember  that 
you  lent  me  a  dollar  ?  Oh,  it  has  been  of  great  use 
to  me  ;  and  I  have  wanted  so  much  to  thank  you,  and 
pay  it  back  to  you.  I  have  carried  it  in  my  pocket  for 
a  long  time ;  but  I  did  not  know  that  you  lived  in  this 
house." 

As  Ernest  spoke,  he  drew  a  silver  dollar  from  his 
pocket,  carefully  wrapped  in  a  piece  of  paper,  and 
offered  it  to  the  gentleman  ;  but  he  drew  back,  saying, 

"  This  is  some  mistake,  my  lad.  I  never  lent  you 
a  dollar." 

"  Oh  yes,  Sir,  a  long  time  ago  ;  more  than  a  year. 
It  was  in  Mr.  Thayer's  shop,  Sir.  We  were  very  poor 
then,  and  I  was  so  anxious  to  do  something  to  help 
my  mother.  You  thought  I  was  too  small  to  carry  a 
basket ;  but  you  lent  me  the  dollar." 

"  I  remember  it  now,  my  boy.  You  are  an  honest 
little  fellow.  And  have  you  really  succeeded  well  ?  " 

"Very  well,  Sir.  We  are  not  so  poor  now.  Mother 
does  not  have  to  work  so  hard,  and  we  have  good  food 
and  comfortable  clothes.  It  is  all  owing  to  your  kind- 
ness, Sir." 

Once  more  Ernest  offered  the  dollar ;  but  the  gen- 
tleman refused  it,  saying, 

"  I  intended  to  give  it  to  you,  my  child." 


THE   LITTLE   MATCH    BOY.  117 

"  But  I  should  feel  happier  if  you  would  take  it, 
Sir  ;  I  have  saved  it  for  you  so  long." 

"  I  will  take  the  little  match  boxes  instead,  then," 
replied  his  friend.  "  Will  that  satisfy  you  ?  " 

"  They  are  not  worth  a  dollar,"  replied  Ernest ; 
"  but  I  can  bring  you  more,  if  you  like." 

"We  have  enough,  my  good  boy.     A  dollar  is  nott 
too  much  for  them.     And  now,  give  me  your  name, 
and  tell  me  where  you  live,  for  I  shall  wish  to  see 
more  of  you." 

"  My  name  is  Ernest  Lawrence,  Sir ;  and  we  live 
in  one  room  of  the  large  white  house  near  the  Baptist 
church." 

"Ah,  yes,  I  know  the  place.  Well,  Ernest,  tell 
your  mother  that  I  will  call  to  see  her  to-morrow 
morning,  about  ten  o'clock." 

"  Thank  you,  Sir ;  I  will  not  forget  to  tell  her. 
She  will  be  very  much  obliged  to  you  for  your  kind- 
ness, and  so  will  Rosy." 

"  Who  is  Rosy  ?  "  asked  Ellen,  who  had  been  an 
attentive  listener  to  the  conversation  between  her  father 
and  the  little  match  boy. 

"  My  sister,  Miss,"  replied  Ernest,  as  he  took  up 
his  basket,  and  made  his  best  bow  to  the  gentleman. 

The  next  morning  was  a  long  one  to  the  two  chil- 
dren. Very  early  had  Rosy  assisted  her  mother  in 
putting  their  little  room  in  the  neatest  order  ;  and  two 


118  THE   LITTLE   MATCH   BOY. 

hours  before  the  time  when  they  might  expect  the  gen- 
tleman, she  was  gazing  eagerly  from  the  window,  hop- 
ing that  he  would  soon  arrive. 

The  right  time  came  at  last ;  and  Mr.  Burnap — for 
this  was  the  name  of  Ernest's  benefactor — was  seen 
ascending  the  steps.  The  children  ran  to  the  door  to 
receive  him,  and  show  him  the  way  to  their  room. 

He  spoke  kindly  to  them  both,  and  stroked  Rosy's 
golden  curls  ;  but  he  had  not  long  to  stay,  and  seemed 
anxious  to  have  some  conversation  with  their  mother. 
So  the  children  employed  themselves  quietly  in  another 
part  of  the  room,  and  were  careful  not  to  speak  a  loud 
word,  for  fear  of  disturbing  their  guest. 

After  a  little  while,  they  softly  left  the  room,  and 
seated  themselves  on  the  step  of  the  outer  door,  where 
they  could  talk  together  in  more  freedom,  and  yet  be 
very  sure  to  see  Mr.  Burnap  before  he  left  the  house. 

In  about  half  an  hour,  their  mother  called  them. 

"  Come  here,  my  boy,"  said  Mr.  Burnap,  extending 
his  hand  to  Ernest,  as  he  advanced.  "  Your  mother 
tells  me  that  you  are  fond  of  your  books.  Would  you 
like  to  give  up  going  out  with  your  basket,  and  attend 
a  good  school  ?  " 

Ernest  hesitated. 

"  Speak  out,  my  boy.     Tell  us  what  is  in  your  mind." 

"  I  should  love  to  go  to  school  very  much,  Sir,  if  I 
was  sure  that  my  mother  would  not  have  to  work  too 


THE   LITTLE   MATCH   BOY.  119 

hard.  My  basket  earns  enough  to  buy  us  many  com- 
forts." 

"  1  will  see  that  your  mother  is  provided  for. 
Would  you,  then,  like  to  attend  school?" 

"  Oh,  very  much,  Sir.     I  will  study  hard.'.' 

"  That  is  right.  You  are  a  good  son,  and  I  think 
you  will  be  a  good  man.  As  for  my  little  Rosy,  I  am 
sure  she  is  a  good  little  girl,  and  does  all  she  can  to  be 
useful." 

"  I  can  sweep  the  room,  Sir,"  replied  Rosy,  smiling 
pleasantly,  as  the  gentleman  drew  her  to  his  side. 

"  I  thought  so,  my  child.  It  looks  very  nice.  I 
must  bring  my  little  daughter  to  see  you  some  time. 
And  now,  I  must  bid  you  all  good  morning.  I  will 
call  again  in  one  week,  Mrs.  Lawrence ;  please  to  have 
all  in  readiness." 

Mrs.  Lawrence  bowed  her  head  gratefully,  but  her 
heart  was  too  full  to  speak ;  and  she  quite  alarmed  the 
children  by  weeping  some  time  after  Mr.  Burnap  left 
the  room. 

At  length  she  grew  calm,  and  was  able  to  tell  them 
all  that  had  passed.  Their  kind  friend  had  expressed 
his  interest  in  Ernest's  welfare,  and  had  offered  to  give 
him  a  good  education  at  his  own  expense.  He  had 
asked  Mrs.  Lawrence  many  questions  concerning  her 
present  employment ;  and  finding  that  constant  confine- 
ment to  her  needle  was  injurious  to  her  health,  and 


120  THE   LITTLE   MATCH    BOY. 

yielded  them  but  a  scanty  support,  he  had  proposed  to 
her  to  remove  to  some  comfortable  rooms  in  a  house 
of  his  own,  part  of  which  was  at  this  time  vacant. 
One  of  these  rooms  was  fitted  for  a  shop  ;  and  he 
offered  to  advance  a  sufficient  sum  to  enable  her  to 
open  a  small  thread  and  needle  store,  which  would, 
he  thought,  be  successful,  and  might  be  gradually 
increased. 

Ernest  and  Rosy  were  almost  wild  with  delight, 
when  their  mother  told  them  of  this  plan.  Rosy  was 
sure  she  could  soon  learn  to  attend  the  shop  as  well  as 
her  mother ;  and  Ernest  thought  he  could  help  a  great 
deal  when  he  was  not  in  school.  Their  hearts  were 
filled  with  gratitude  to  their  Heavenly  Father,  who 
had  raised  them  up  such  a  kind  friend. 

In  about  a  week  they  were  established  in  their  new 
home,  which  seemed  to  them  almost  like  a  palace. 
Several  articles  of  furniture  were  given  them  by  Mr. 
Burnap  ;  and  the  whole  place  presented  a  remarkably 
neat  and  attractive  appearance. 

The  little  shop  was  very  successful ;  and  before 
many  months  had  passed  away,  Mrs.  Lawrence  was 
able,  not  only  to  repay  the  sum  which  their  friend  had 
advanced  to  them,  but  also  to  increase  her  stock  of 
goods  considerably. 

Mi-.  Burnap  would  have  objected  to  receiving  the 
money,  but  Mrs.  Lawrence  begged  that  he  would  take 


THE    LITTLE   MATCH    BOY.  121 

it,  and  if  he  pleased,  use  it  to  assist  others  who  were 
poor  and  needy. 

Ernest  applied  with  great  diligence  to  his  studies, 
and  made  rapid  progress.  Little  Rosy,  also,  was  soon 
placed  at  school ;  and  was  no  less  an  industrious  scholar 
than  ner  brother.  They  delighted  to  do  everything  in 
their  power  to  assist  their  mother,  and  often  wished 
they  could  do  more,  to  show  their  gratitude  to  the 
friends  who  had  been  so  kind  to  them. 

Mr.  Burnap  had  no  son,  and  Ernest  became  very 
dear  to  him.  After  several  years,  he  took  him  into 
his  own  counting-room,  and,  as  he  grew  older,  made 
him  a  partner  in  his  business. 

Ernest,  while  still  a  young  man,  was  a  wealthy  mer- 
chant. If  you  could  have  looked  into  his  beautiful 
parlors,  and  have  seen  that  handsomely-dressed,  cheer- 
ful-looking old  lady,  seated  in  her  rocking-chair,  and 
that  lovely  young  girl  by  her  side,  you  would  not  have 
recognized  poor  Mrs.  Lawrence  and  her  little  Rosy ; 
and  in  that  gentlemanly-looking  man  who  has  just 
entered,  you  would  have  been  still  more  unable  to  have 
recalled  the  little  match  boy,  whose  shrill  cry  had  once 
been  heard  through  those  very  streets,  where  he  was 
now  known  and  respected. 

Ernest  still  loved  to  tell  the  story ;  and  when  Rosy 
would  sometimes  say, 

"  That  little  thread  and  needle  store  seems  like  a 
11 


122  THE   LITTLE   MATCH   EOT. 

dream  to  me  now,"  lie  would  produce  the  very  basket 
which  he  had  formerly  carried,  and  the  silver  dollar 
which  he  had  so  long  reserved  to  repay  his  benefactor, 
and  would  smilingly  reply, 

"  My  match  basket  is  still  a  reality  to  me,  Rosy. 
We  will  not  forget  the  days  gone  by." 


I   FORGOT. 


"  I  AM  glad  you  have  come,  Clara,"  said  Mrs.  Gray, 
as  her  little,  daughter  entered  the  room,  on  her  return 
from  an  errand  to  a  neighboring  shop ;  "I  began  to 
fear  you  would  be  too  late.  Where  are  the  buttons  ?  " 

"  The  buttons  !  "  exclaimed  Clara.  "  Oh,  mother, 
I  forgot  to  buy  them  !  " 

"  Forgot  to  buy  them,  Clara  ;  how  is  that  possible, 
when  you  went  to  the  shop  for  the  very  purpose  of  get- 
ting them  ?  I  gave  you  no  other  errand." 

"  I  know  that,  mother ;  but  you  gave  me  leave  to 
buy  the  worsted  to  work  the  slippers  for  father,  for 
which  I  have  been  saving  my  money  so  long.  I  met 
Anna  Lee,  and  we  were  so  busy  talking  together,  and 
selecting  the  prettiest  shades  of  worsted,  that  I  quite 
forgot  the  buttons.  I  will  go  back  again,  mother." 

"  No,  Clara,  it  will  be  too  late  ;  your  father  is  now 
eating  his  dinner,  and  he  expects  the  coach  .in  a  few 
minutes.  I  should  have  but  just  time  to  sew  the  but- 
(123) 


124  I    FORGOT. 

tons  on  his  coat,  if  I  had  them  now.  If  he  had  not 
been  so  suddenly  called  from  home,  his  clothes  would 
have  been  in  readiness.  I  have  exerted  myself  all  the 
morning  to  put  every  thing  in  proper  order  for  his 
journey,  and  all  is  now  ready  excepting  his  overcoat, 
which  needs  new  buttons  very  much." 

Clara  looked  sorry  and  ashamed,  and  just  then  her 
father  entered  the  room,  saying, — 

"  Is  my  coat  nearly  ready  ?  I  think  the  coach  will 
be  here  in  five  minutes." 

"  I  am  sorry  to  say  that  Clara  forgot  the  buttons," 
replied  his  wife,  "  and  there  is  no  time  to  send  her 
again  to  the  shop." 

"  Oh,  no  !  "  said  Mr.  Gray,  "  I  must  wear  the  coat 
as  it  is.  I  should  be  gone  before  she  could  reach  the 
shop.  It  is  not  pleasant  to  think  that  my  little  daugh- 
ter's forgetfulness  obliges  me  to  wear  a  shabby  coat ; 
but  do  not  trouble  yourself  about  it.  I  will  get  a 
tailor  to  repair  it  at  the  town  where  we  stop  for  the 
night." 

A  few  minutes  passed,  and  the  coach  rattled  to  the 
door.  Mr.  Gray  hastily  bade  his  wife  an  affectionate 
farewell,  and  stooping  to  kiss  Clara  he  said,  "  My 
daiighter  must  remember  that  forgetfulness  is,  often, 
only  another  name  for  selfishness." 

In  anpther  minute  he  had  taken  his  place  in  the 
coach,  the  door  was  closed,  the  driver  sprang  to  his 


I   FORGOT.  125 

seat,  and  they  whirled  away  as  fast  as  the  four  stout 
horses  could  carry  them. 

Clara  stood  at  the  door  until  the  coach  was  out  of 
sight,  and  then  slowly  and  sadly  returned  to  the  par- 
lor, and  seated  herself  by  her  mother. 

u  I  am  very  sorry  I  forgot  the  buttons,"  she  said  ; 
"  but  what  did  father  mean  by  saying  that  forgetful- 
ness  is  only  another  name  for  selfishness  ?  I  did  not 
mean  to  forget,  mother ;  I  was  willing  to  go  for  them. 
Selfish  people  are  unwilling  to  do  any  thing  to  help 
others." 

"  There  are  many  kinds  of  selfishness,  Clara,  and 
forgetfulness  is  certainly  one  kind.  You  have  a  bad 
habit  of  excusing  many  acts  of  thoughtlessness  and 
carelessness  by  saying,  '  I  forgot.'  Now  can  you  tell 
me  why  you  forgot  to  buy  the  buttons  ?  " 

"  Because  I  was  so  engaged  in  selecting  the  wors- 
teds and  in  admiring  the  pretty  colors,  mother." 

"  And  was  not  that  selfish,  Clara  ?  You  did  not 
forget  your  own  errand,  but  you  allowed  it  to  engross 
your  mind  so  entirely,  that  you  forgot  the  real  object 
for  which  you  were  sent  to  the  shop.  If  you  loved  to 
be  of  use  to  me,  as  well  as  you  love  to  please  yourself, 
you  would  have  remembered  what  I  sent  you  for,  and 
purchased  that  before  you  attended  to  your  own  wants." 

"  I  will  try  to  do  better  another  time,  mother,"  re- 
plied Clara,  "  and  in  this  case  I  believe  I  was  a  little 
11* 


126  I    FOHGOT. 

selfish  ;  but  I  do  not  believe  that  forgetfulness  is  always 
selfishness." 

'•  Xot  always,  perhaps ;  but  very  often,"  said  Mrs. 
Gray.  "  If  we  love  our  neighbor  as  ourselves,  we 
shall  remember  his  desire's  as  well  as  we  do  our  own. 
It  is  a  poor  excuse  for  any  fault  to  say,  '  I  forgot  to  do 
right.'  Now,  tie  on  your  bonnet,  Clara,  and  we  will 
take  a  short  walk  this  fine  afternoon." 

"  Oh,  thank  you,  mother !  I  love  to  walk  with  you  ; 
and  will  you  tell  me  where  father  has  gone,  and  all 
about  it,  as  you  said  you  would  do  when  you  were  at 
leisure." 

"  I  will,"  replied  her  mother.  "  We  will  take  the 
pleasant  retired  path  which  leads  through  the  woods, 
and  when  we  reach  our  favorite  seat  we  will  rest  our- 
selves, and  talk  about  your  father's  journey." 

Clara  always  found  a  walk  with  her  mother  instruc- 
tive as  well  as  delightful ;  for  Mrs.  Gray  allowed  noth- 
ing to  escape  her  observation,  but  made  even  the  most 
trifling  objects  the  means  of  conveying  pleasant  and 
useful-$|pformation.  A  simple  flower,  or  blade  of 
grass,  often  served  to  impress  upon  Clara's  mind  the 
wisdom  and  beauty  which  is  visible  in  all  the  works 
of  the  Lojsd;  and  the  music  of  the  birds  never  fell 
unheeded  upon  her  ear,  but  elevated  her  affections  to 
her  Heavenly  Father,  without  whom  not  even  a  spar- 
row falleth  to  the  ground.  From  her  earliest  child- 


I    FORGOT.  127 

hood  her  mother  had  endeavored  to  give  her  habits  of 
observation,  and  had  taught  her  to  regard  nothing 
which  the  Lord  has  made  as  too  trifling  to  be  instruc- 
tive and  useful,  if  examined  with  proper  attention. 

"Anna  Lee  has  collected  specimens  of  a  great  many 
different  kinds  of  leaves,  mother,"  said  Clara,  as  she 
plucked  a  large  oak  leaf  from  a  tree  which  they  were 
passing,  and  admired  its  deep  green  and  smooth  glossy 
surface.  "  She  has  a  very  large  book  quite  full,  and 
yet  she  tells  me  that  she  has  never  been  able  to  find 
two  leaves  exactly  alike." 

"  She  will  never  find  two  leaves  alike,  Clara.  There 
ape  no  two  things  in  creation  that  are  exactly  alike." 

"Why,  mother,  how  can  you  know?"  exclaimed 
Clara,  iu  surprise.  "  There  may  be  two  things  alike 
which  you  have  never  seen." 

"  No,  Clara,  this  cannot  be.  The  Lord  is  infinite, 
and  therefore  there  is  an  infinite  variety  in  all  things 
that  He  has  made.  There  is  not  given  any  thing  the 
same  as  another,  and  neither  can  be  given  to  eternity." 

"Not  even  two  blades  of  grass,  mother?"  asked 
Clara. 

"No,  Clara,"  replied  her  mother,  smiling.  "When 
you  are  older  you  will  understand  this  better,  but  it 
will  always  fill  your  mind  with  wonder  and  admira- 
tion. At  present,  it  is  sufficient  for  you  to  recollect 
what  I  have  said, — that  the  Lord  is  infinite,  and  thatx 


128  I    FORGOT. 

therefore,  there  is  an  infinite  variety  in  all  things.  To 
impress  this  upon  your  mind,  you  may  compare  as 
many  things  as  you  please,  and  you  will  soon  find  that 
although  they  will  frequently  look  alike,  yet  by  careful 
observation  you  will  always  find  some  slight  shades  of 
difference." 

"  Yes,  mother,  I  will  try,"  said  Clara,  "and  I  think 
I  should  like  to  collect  a  book  of  leaves  like  Anna's, 
if  you  are  willing,  mother." 

"  I  have  no  objection,  Clara ;  and,  if  you  like,  I 
will  give  you  a  short  lesson  to  learn  in  a  little  book 
which  I  have  on  Botany,  and  then  you  will  know  the 
names  of  the  different  forms  of  leaves,  and  I  will  show 
you  how  to  arrange  them  properly  in  your  book." 

"  Oh,  thank  you,  mother !  I  shall  like  that  very 
much.  And  now  here  we  are  at  our  mossy  seat,  and 
I  shall  hear  where  father  has  gone,  and  why  he  looked 
so  grave  when  he  read  that  letter  this  morning." 

"  Yes,  you  shall  now  hear  all  about  it,"  replied  Mrs. 
Gray.  "  I  was  pleased  to  observe  that  you  tried  to 
suppress  your  curiosity  this  morning,  and  when  your 
father  requested  you  to  leave  the  room,  as  he  wished 
to  talk  with  me  alone,  that  you  obeyed  readily  and 
without  asking  any  questions.  The  letter  was  from 
your  aunt  Catharine.  She  tells  us  that  her  husband's 
health  is  evidently  declining,  and  the  physicians  strongly 
recommend  a  milder  climate.  They  also  think  that  a 


I    FORGOT.  129 

voyage  at  sea  might  be  useful  to  him.  He  will  leave 
home  for  Italy  in  a  few  days,  and  your  aunt  has 
decided  to  accompany  him." 

"And  is  little  Ellen  going  with  them,  mother?" 
asked  Clara,  who  was  listening  with  eager  attention. 

"No,  my  dear,"  replied  Mrs.  Gray;  "your  aunt 
thinks  that  she  could  not  devote  herself  so  entirely  to 
her  husband  if  little  Ellen  was  with  her,  and  she  has 
therefore  decided  to  leaVe  her  behind,  although  it  is  a 
great  trial  to  part  with  her.  She  would  like  to  have 
Ellen  remain  with  us  during  their  absence,  and  this 
was  the  principal  subject  of  the  letter  to  your  father." 

"  And  shall  you  let  her  come,  mother  ?  "  exclaimed 
Clara.  "  Oh,  do  say  yes  !  I  shall  be  so  delighted  to 
have  a  little  sister  like  Ellen  to  play  with.  I  will  help 
you  take  care  of  her  all  the  time." 

"  Her  nurse  will  come  with  her,"  replied  Mrs. 
Gray,  smiling  at  Clara's  eagerness.  "  Your  father 
has  now  gone  to  visit  your  uncle  and  aunt,  and  it  is 
quite  probable  that  little  Ellen  and  her  nurse* will 
return  with  him." 

"  How  glad  I  am,"  said  Clara  ;  "  I  hope  aunt  will 
remain  in  Italy  a  long  time.  I  do  not  mean  that  I 
hope  uncle  Henry's  health  will  oblige  them  to  stay, 
but  I  should  love  to  have  him  get  better,  and  conclude 
to  travel  for  two  or  three  years,  and  leave  Ellen  with 
us." 


130  I   FORGOT. 

"  There  is  no  probability  of  their  doing  this,  Clara. 
If  your  uncle  should  recover,  they  will  return  next 
summer ;  and  though  we  may  have  become  much 
attached  to  your  little  cousin,  and  grieve  to  part  with 
her,  I  trust  we  shall  not  be  so  selfish  as  to  wish  to 
prolong  her  separation  from  her  parents." 

"  I  can  teach  her  a  great  deal  before  they  come 
home,"  said  Clara.  "  She  is  nearly  two  years  old 
now.  I  might  teach  her  to  read  before  she  is  three." 

"  We  will  first  teach  her  to  talk,"  replied  her  mother  ; 
"  but  we  will  not  teach  her  to  say,  '  I  forgot ! ' ' 

"  No,  mother,  I  will  not  teach  her  to  say  that.  I 
will  teach  her  all  that  I  can  that  is  good,  but  nothing 
that  is  evil." 

"  A  very  good  resolution,  Clara.  And  now  we  will 
return  home,  for  the  air  is  rather  too  cool." 

Before  I  tell  my  young  readers  about  Mr.  Gray's 
return  with  little  Ellen,  I  must  introduce  them  more 
particularly  to  Clara ;  although,  from  what  I  have 
already  said  concerning  her,  they  may  have  formed  a 
good  idea  of  her  character,  and  have  justly  concluded 
that  she  is  very  much  like  themselves,  sometimes  try- 
ing to  do  what  is  right,  and  suffering  herself  to  be  led 
by  the  good  spirits  around  her,  and  at  other  times 
somewhat  selfish  and  thoughtless,  allowing  evil  spirits 
to  lead  her  in  the  wrong  path. 

Clara  was  nearly  eleven  years  old.     She  was  gener- 


I   FORGOT.  131 

ally  obedient  to  her  parents  and  teachers,  kind  to  her 
playmates,  diligent  in  her  studies,  and  orderly  and 
industrious  in  her  habits.  Still  she  had  some  faults. 
Although  obliging  in  her  disposition,  and  desirous  to 
be  useful  to  those  around  her,  she  frequently  entirely 
disregarded  their  wishes  through  mere  thoughtlessness 
and  inattention.  Like  most  children,  she  was  fond  of 
play,  and  sometimes  allowed  her  amusements  to  make 
her  forget  to  perform  her  duties. 

She  was  unwilling  to  believe  that  this  forgetfulness 
was  one  form  of  selfishness ;  for  Clara,  like  many  other 
persons,  believed  herself  free  from  this  evil,  because 
she  was  glad  to  share  whatever  she  had  with  those 
who  needed  it,  and  was  even  willing  to  give  up  her 
own  pleasure  for  the  sake  of  being  useful  to  others.  I 
have  known  her  to  decline  an  invitation  to  a  pleasant 
little  party,  because  her  mother  Avas  not  quite  well, 
and  needed  her  attention ;  and  yet,  perhaps,  in  the 
course  of  that  same  afternoon,  she  would  become  so 
much  interested  in  some  book,  or  favorite  amusement, 
that  she  would  quite  forget  the  object  for  which  she 
remained  at  home,  and  entirely  neglect  to  attend  to 
her  mother. 

I  will  relate  an  instance  of  Clara's  thoughtlessness , 
and  you  will  then  see  that  she  sometimes  gave  great 
trouble  to  herself  and  to  others,  although  she  very 
seldom  intended  to  do  wrong  ;  —  she  only  forgot  to  do 
right. 


132  I    FORGOT. 

Very  near  to '  Mr.  Gray's  there  lived  a  good  old 
woman,  whom  the  children  in  the  neighborhood  called 
aunt  Molly.  She  lived  in  a  small  cottage,  with  a  neat 
little  garden  in  front,  containing  a  few  flowers  and 
vegetables,  and  one  large  apple-tree.  Aunt  Molly  was 
quite  lame,  and  always  used  a  crutch  in  walking.  She 
had  one  son,  about  eighteen  years  of  age,  Avho  lived 
with  her,  and  took  care  of  her.  During  the  day  he 
was  obliged  to  be  from  home  to  attend  to  his  work, 
but  he  took  good  care  to  bring  wood,  and  water,  and 
every  thing  that  he  thought  his  mother  could  want, 
before  he  left  her  ;  and  with  the  help  of  her  crutch  she 
was  able  to  move  about  quite  briskly,  and  her  little 
cottage  was  always  in  the  neatest  order.  Every  child 
in  the  neighborhood  loved  to  visit  aunt  Molly,  for  she 
had  a  kind  word  for  each  of  them,  and  often  a  pleasant 
story  to  tell,  or  a  gift  of  a  rosy-cheeked  apple  or  a 
pretty  flower. 

One  bright  afternoon  in  October,  Clara  asked  her 
mother's  leave  to  pass  an  hour  or  two  at  the  cottage. 
Mrs.  Gray  readily  consented,  and  requested  her  to 
take  a  glass  of  grape  jelly,  which  she  had  just  been 
making,  to  the  old  lady. 

"  I  love  to  carry  aunt  Molly  a  little  present,  because 
she  is  always  so  much  pleased,"  said  Clara ;  and, 
tying  on  her  bonnet,  she  bade  her  mother  good  after- 
noon, and  taking  the  glass  in  her  hand,  soon  reached 


I   FORGOT.  133 

the  cottage,  where  she  found  aunt  Molly  comfortably 
seated  in  her  large  arm-chair,  with  her  knitting-work 
in  her  hands,  and  her  crutch  lying  by  her  side.  She 
was,  as  Clara  expected,  much  pleased  with  the  jelly, 
and  said  it  was  the  best  she  had  tasted  for  many  years. 
Clara  sat  by  her  side  for  half  an  hour,  chatting  away 
very  happily,  and  then  aunt  Molly  requested  her  to 
read  aloud  to  her  for  a  little  while,  as  her  eyes  were 
failing,  and  she  often  found  it  difficult  to  see  to  read 
herself.  Clara  readily  complied,  for  she  was  glad  to 
be  of  use,  and  another  half  hour  passed  away  very 
pleasantly. 

"  Now,"  said  aunt  Molly,  "  you  must  go  to  the  gar- 
den, and  find  a  nice  apple  for  yourself.  In  a  few  days 
my  son  will  gather  them  all,  but  I  have  notfe  in  the 
house  to-day.  You  will  probably  find  some  good  ones 
on  the  ground,  or  perhaps  you  can  reach  the  lower 
branches  of  the  tree." 

So  Clara  ran  to  the  apple-tree,  and  looked  around 
upon  the  grass  beneath  it  for  a  nice  apple.  There 
were  some  pretty  good  ones,  but  they  did  not  suit  lier 
exactly,  for  high  up  above  her  head  she  saw  those  that 
Avere  much  larger  and  fairer. 

"  There  is  a  beauty ! "  she  exclaimed  ;  '"I  can 
almost  reach  it.  I  wish  I  had  a  stick.  I  will  run 
and  borrow  aunt  Molly's  crutch,  and  knack  it  down." 

Aunt  Molly  was  quite  willing  to  lend  her  crutch, 
12 


134  I    FORGOT. 

but  she  charged  Clara  to  bring  it  back  directly,  as  it 
was  nearly  time  for  her  to  put  by  her  knitting  and 
prepare  tea. 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  will  come  right  back ! "  said  Clara, 
"  and  I  will  set  the  table,  and  hang  on  the  tea-kettle, 
and  help  you  get  tea." 

While  Clara  was  endeavoring  to  knock  the  apple 
from  the  tree,  she  saw  two  of  her  schoolmates  running 
along  a  lane  not  far  from  the  cottage  ;  they  were  talk- 
ing very  merrily,  and  seemed  to  be  much  pleased 
about  something.  Clara  threw  down  the  crutch  and 
ran  after  them.  They  stopped  when  they  heard  her 
call  to  them,  and  told  her  that  they  were  going  to  the 
grove  to  see  a  uew  swing  which  their  brother  had  just 
put  up. 

u  Can  every  one  swing  in  it  who  wishes  to  ?  "  asked 
Clara. 

"  Certainly,"  replied  Susan  Allen,  one  of  the  little 
girls.  "  My  brother  said  it  was  for  the  accommoda- 
tion of  all  the  children  in  the  neighborhood.  Come 
with  us,  and  we  will  have  a  fine  swing." 

In  her  eagerness  to  try  the  new  swing,  Clara  quite 
forgot  aunt  Molly's  crutch,  which  she  had  left  under 
the  apple-tree,  and  ran  hastily  along  with  the  other 
girls  until  they  reached  a  small  grove  of  willow-trees 
at  the  end  of  the  lane.  Here  they  found  a  fine  large 
swing,  and  enjoyed  their  play  so  much  that  the  time 


I    FORGOT.  130 

passed  very  quickly.  It  was  nearly  an  hour  since 
Clara  had  left  the  apple-tree,  when  she  suddenly 
sprung  from  the  swing,  exclaiming,—- 

"Oh,  dear,  I  forgot  aunt  Molly's  crutch  !  I  am  so 
sorry,"  and  she  run  as  fast  as  she  could  toward  the 
cottage. 

Poor  aunt  Molly,  after  waiting  fifteen  or  twenty 
minutes  for  Clara  to  return  with  the  crutch,  began  to 
fear  that  some  accident  had  befallen  her,  and  thought 
she  would  try  to  get  to  the  door  and  look  out  into  the 
garden.  She  succeeded  in  doing  this,  by  taking  hold 
of  the  chairs  and  other  furniture.  She  saw  her  crutch 
lying  under  the  tree,  but  nothing  was  to  be  seen  of 
Clara.  She  called  as  loudly  as  she  could,  but  no  one 
answered.  Becoming  still  more  alarmed,  aunt  Molly 
endeavored  to  get  down  the  steps  which  led  into  the 
garden,  hoping  to  be  able  to  reach  her  crutch. 

"•If  I  can  only  get  my  crutch,"  she  said  to  herself, 
"  I  will  go  to  the  next  house,  and  ask  them  to  look  for 
the  poor  child,  for  I  know  not  what  has  become  of 
her." 

But,  unfortunately,  the  old  laay,  naving  nothing  to 
take  hold  of,  lost  her  balance  and  fell  to  the  ground. 
The  steps  were  high,  and  she  was  a  good  deal  braised 
by  the  fall,  and  her  lameness  entirely  prevented  her 
from  rising,  or  helping  herself  in  any  way. 

Providentially,    however,    her    son    returned    at    an 


136  I   FORGOT. 

earlier  hour  than  usual.  He  was  much  shocked  at 
finding  his  mother  in  such  a  condition,  and  carefully 
raising  her  from  the  ground,  he  helped  her  into  the 
cottage,  and  laid  her  upon  the  bed.  He  was  then 
preparing  to  attend  to  the  bruises  upon  her  face  and 
arm,  which  were  beginning  to  look  very  badly,  but  his 
mother  begged  him  to  leave  her  and  look  for  Clara, 
for  she  felt  exceedingly  anxious  concerning  her.  Just 
at  this  moment  Clara  ran  hastily  into  the  room,  with 
the  crutch  in  her  hand,  which  she  had  found  under 
the  tree  where  she  left  it.  She  felt  very  sad  at  find- 
ing aunt  Molly  so  much  injured  through  her  forgetful- 
ness  and  neglect.  The  kind  old  lady  did  not  reproach 
her,  but  she  begged  her  to  try  to  grow  more  thought- 
ful and  considerate. 

Clara  went  immediately  to  her  mother,  and  told  her 
of  what  she  had  done,  and  Mrs.  Gray  hastened  to  the 
cottage  with  some  liniment  and  other  things  which 
were  useful  for  bruises  and  sprains. 

It  was  several  weeks  before  aunt  Molly  was  able  to 
sit  in  her  chair  and  knit  again,  for  her  arm  was  so 
badly  sprained  by  the  fall  that  it  was  a  long  time 
before  she  could  use  it.  Clara  went  every  day  to  the 
cottage  to  assist  her,  and  gladly  gave  up  many  of  her 
hours  for  play  that  she  might  have  leisure  to  attend  to 
aunt  Molly's  wants,  without  neglecting  her  studies  and 
other  duties.  This  lesson  appeared  to  make  so  deep 


I    FORGOT.  137 

an  impression  upon  her  mind,  that  her  mother  hoped 
it  "would  quite  cure  her  fault ;  but  after  a  short  time 
had  passed  away,  Clara  was  nearly  as  heedless  as  she 
was  before.  When  bad  habits  are  once  acquired  it  is 
difficult  to  overcome  them,  and  many  sad  lessons  are 
often  necessary  before  we  sincerely  endeavor  to  remove 
the  evil. 

A  few  days  after  Mr.  Gray  had  left  home,  his  wife 
received  a  letter  from  him  naming  the  day  that  he 
should  probably  return,  and  requesting  to  have  a  room 
prepared  for  Ellen  and  her  nurse,  as  they  would 
accompany  him. 

Clara  was  quite  overjoyed,  and  begged  her  mother 
to  allow  her  a  holiday,  that  she  might  collect  every 
thing  that  could  please  her  little  cousin  from  her  old 
stores  of  playthings,  some  of  which  had  long  been  laid 
aside.  Mrs.  Gray  consented,  and  gave  her  leave  to 
use  the  lower  shelves  of  a  closet  in  the  room  which 
Ellen  was  to  occupy,  for  a  baby-house.  To  this  closet, 
therefore,  Clara  brought  all  her  treasures,  and  spent 
several  hours  very  happily  in  making  new  dresses  for 
the  dolls,  and  in  arranging  the  different  apartments  of 
a  house  upon  the  shelves.  At  length  the  parlor,  kitchen, 
and  sleeping-rooms  were  all  in  proper  order  ;  the  dolls 
were  suitably  dressed,  and  placed  in  their  respective 
places ;  one  or  two  were  quietly  seated  in  the  parlor, 


138  I   FORGOT. 

another  was  standing  by  a  washtub  in  the  kitchen,  and 
another  might  be  seen  in  the  neatly  made  bed  in  the 
upper  room.  Mrs.  Gray  was  then  summoned  to  look 
at  the  baby-house.  She  admired  the  neatness  Avith 
which  every  thing  was  arranged,  but  warned  Clara 
not  to  be  disappointed  if  she  found  Ellen  too  young  to 
understand  and  appreciate  it. 

"  Why,  mother,"  exclaimed  Clara,  "  even  very  little 
babies  like  playthings." 

"  Certainly,"  replied  her  mother,  "  but  they  like  to 
play  with  them  in  their  own  way.  Ellen  will,  I  doubt 
not,  be  much  pleased  with  the  baby-house,  but  she  will 
not  know  how  to  arrange  things  in  an  orderly  manner, 
as  you  do.  For  instance,  you  have  placed  the  clothes 
for  your  dolls  very  neatly  in  the  drawers  of  the  little 
bureau.  Now,  it  is  quite  probable  that  Ellen  will  be 
delighted  with  the  bureau,  but  she  will  not  be  willing 
to  allow  the  clothes  to  remain  in  the  drawers.  Every 
drawer  will  be  taken  out,  and  the  clothes  unfolded  ; 
the  bureau  will  be  turned  upside  down,  and  perhaps  a 
block-house  built  with  the  drawers." 

"  Oh,  mother,"  said  Clara,  "  that  will  not  do  at  all ! 
I  will  show  Ellen  how  to  play  properly." 

"  You  can  let  her  see  how  you  use  the  playthings, 
and  she  will  soon  begin  to  imitate  you ;  but  do  not 
interfere  with  her  plays  too  much.  It  is  better  to  let 
little  children  play  in  their  own  way,  as  much  as  we 


I    FORGOT.  139 

can,  without  allowing  them  to  injure  themselves  or 
others.  The  Lord  keeps  good  spirits  constantly  near 
to  them,  and  in  every  innocent  amusement  they  are 
endeavoring  to  impart  those  remains  of  goodness  and 
truth  which  will  enable  them  to  be  useful  and  happy 
as  they  grow  older." 

"  I  will  remember  this,  mother,  and  I  will  try  to  be 
patient,  even  if  little  Ellen  pulls  my  pretty  bed  to 
pieces,  and  puts  the  ladies  into  the  kitchen,  and  Susy, 
the  girl  who  does  my  work,  into  the  parlor." 

"  She  will  probably  do  these  and  many  other  strange 
things,"  replied  Mrs.  Gray ;  "  but  you  must  always 
try,  when  playing  with  little  children,  to  play  entirely 
for  their  amusement.  Do  not  attempt  to  have  things 
in  your  own  way,  but  devote  yourself  to  making  them 
happy." 

"  And  uow  all  is  ready,"  said  Clara,  "  and  how  I 
wish  to-morrow  evening  was  here." 

"Never  wish  away  time,  my  dear  Clara,  but  en- 
deavor to  improve  every  moment  as  it  flies.  When 
we  are  busily  engaged  in  our  duties  and  pleasures, 
time  always  passes  quickly." 

Clara  followed  her  mother's  advice,  and  attended 
diligently  to  her  studies  during  the  forenoon  of  the 
following  day.  The  afternoon  was  devoted  to  reading, 
sewing,  and  walking.  The  hours  soon  passed  away, 
and  the  coach  containing  the  travellers  drove  to  the 


140  I    FORGOT. 

door  before  Clara  had  begun  to  watch  for  its  appear- 
ance. 

For  two  or  three  days  little  Ellen  was  too  much 
grieved,  by  the  separation  from  her  father  and  mother, 
to  show  much  affection  for  the  new  friends  around 
her  ;  but  she  soon  forgot  her  troubles,  and  appeared 
perfectly  contented  and  happy.  •  She  was  a  sweet- 
looking,  happy  child,  and  no  one  could  look  in  her 
innocent  face  without  loving  her  dearly. 

Clara  devoted  every  leisure  moment  to  her.  The 
baby-house  was  at  first  in  constant  disorder,  but  very 
soon  Ellen  would  try  to  arrange  the  playthings  as  she 
saw  Clara  do,  and  if  she  did  not  succeed  in  putting 
them  in  their  proper  places,  she  would  run  to  her 
cousin,  and  pull  her  by  the  frock,  saying,  "  Come, 
Tara,  come."  When  all  the  things  were  in  order,  she 
would  clap  her  little  hands,  and  say,  "  Pretty,  pretty ! 
Ellen  happy  now."  This  pleased  Clara  very  much, 
and  she  sometimes  told  her  mother  that  she  loved 
Ellen  more  and  more  every  day. 

"  I  can  teach  her  many  things,"  she  said,  "  but  there 
are  some  things  which  she  teaches  me.  I  never  thought 
so  much  about  the  Lord,  and  heaven,  and  the  angels, 
as  I  have  done  since  Ellen  has  lived  with  us.  I  love 
to  think  how  the  angels  watch  over  her,  and  try  to 
teach  her  what  is  good  and  true.  Sometimes  when 
nay  lessons  trouble  me.  and  I  feel  idle  and  cross,  if 


I    FORGOT.  141 

little  Ellen  comes  into  the  room  all  these  evil  feelings 
go  away,  and  I  resolve  to  be  good  and  happy.  I 
think  she  brings  the  angels  with  her,  and  this  makes 
me  feel  better." 

"  You  must  remember  that  the  Lord  keeps  angels 
near  to  you  as  well  as  to  Ellen,  Clara^"  replied  Mrs. 
Gray.  "  The  evil  spirits  are  suffered  to  have  more 
power  over  you  than  over  her,  because  you  are  older, 
and  have  learned  to  distinguish  between  good  and  evil. 
You  can  easily  tell  whether  the  thoughts  which  come 
into  your  mind  are  right  or  wrong,  and  you  know  that 
the  Lord  will  always  enable  you  to  remove  the  evil 
spirits,  and  suffer  the  angels  to  draw  near  to  you,  if 
you  sincerely  desire  it." 

"  Yes,  mother,  I  know  this  ;  but  sometimes  I  think 
I  should  love  to  be  a  little  child  like  Ellen,  and  then  I 
should  not  so  often  feel  tempted  to  do  wrong.  How 
sweet  she  looks  when  she  is  asleep.  When  I  look  at 
her  then,  mother,  I  always  feel  like  praying  to  the 
Lord.  My  heart  seems  to  be  raised  to  Him." 

"It  is  a  good  feeling,  my  dear,  child,"  said  Mrs. 
Gray,  kissing  Clara  affectionately.  "  The  angels  are 
indeed  near  to  you  when  your  heart  is  thus  raised  to 
your  Heavenly  Father,  and  He  will  always  hear  your 
prayer,  and  strengthen  you  to  walk  in  the  path  of 
goodness  and  truth." 

Several  months  had  passed  since  the  commencement 


142  I   FORGOT. 

of  our  story,  and  in  many  respects  Clara  had  consider- 
ably improved.  "  I  forgot "  was  an  expression  less 
frequently  used  than  formerly  ;  but  still  her  old  habits 
of  heedless  forgetfulness  were  often  troublesome,  and 
she  was  frequently  mortified  to  find  that  her  friends 
feared  to  trust  her  in  any  important  matter,  lest  she 
should  neglect  to  perf6rm  her  duty. 

"  Why  will  you  never  allow  Ellen  to  walk  alone 
with  me,  Margaret?"  inquired  Clara  of  the  faithful 
woman  who  had  charge  of  her  little  cousin ;  "I  am 
sure  I  am  old  enough  to  take  good  care  of  her,  and 
she  loves  me  almost  as  well  as  she  does  you." 

"  You  are  very  kind  to  her,'  and  she  loves  you  very 
much,  Miss  Clara,"  replied  Margaret ;  "  but  I  should 
fear  to  trust  her  in  the  street  with  you,  because  you 
are  sometimes  a  little  thoughtless,  and  some  accident 
might  happen  to  her.  When  your  aunt  parted  from 
the  dear  child,  she  begged  me,  with  tears  in  her  eyes, 
to  watch  over  her  night  and  day,  and  I  shall  faithfully 
try  to  keep  the  promise  I  then  made." 

"  But,  Margaret,"  urged  Clara,  "  what  accident 
could  happen  to  Ellen  if  I  took  her  to  walk  up  and 
down  the  street,  and  kept  hold  of  her  hand  all  the 
way.  I  would  not  leave  her  an  instant." 

"  You  might  forget  her,"  said  Margaret,  hesitat- 
ingly, for  she  did  not  wish  to  grieve  Clara.  "  Some 
of  your  schoolmates  might  call  to  you,  or  something 
else  might  take  your  attention." 


I   FORGOT.  143 

"  You  ought  not  to  say  so,"  replied  Clara,  looking  a 
little  offended.  "  I  know  I  forget  things  sometimes, 
but  they  are  almost  always  trifling  matters,  such  as 
errands,  or  some  other  little  thing.  I  could  not  forget 
Ellen.  Could  I,  mother?"  she  continued,  appealing 
to  her  mother,  who  was  sitting  in  the  next  room,  and 
had  heard  the  conversation.  . 

"  I  think  Margaret  is  right,  Clara,"  replied  Mrs. 
Gray.  "  While  we  see  you  so  forgetful  of  little  duties, 
it  would  not  be  proper  to  intrust  you  with  any  thing 
important.  I  think  you  have  improved  in  this  respect 
lately,  but  you  are  still  very  thoughtless,  and  do  not 
make  so  much  effort  to  correct  the  fault  as  I  could 
wish." 

Clara  did  not  look  very  pleasant  while  her  mother 
was  speaking. 

"  I  do  not  think  I  am  any  more  forgetful  than  other 
people,"  she  said.  "  Every  one  forgets  sometimes." 

"You  speak  improperly,  Clara,"  said  her  mother. 
"You  are  not  in  a  good,  humble  state, — willing  to 
acknowledge  your  faults  and  try  to  remove  them." 

Clara  made  no  reply,  and  soon  left  the  room.  She 
felt  grieved  and  displeased  that  her  little  cousin  could 
not  be  intrusted  to  her  care,  and  she  felt  disposed  to 
charge  her  mother  and  Margaret  with  unkindness, 
rather  than  to  blame  herself  for  deserving  the  mortifi- 
cation. 


144  I    FORGOT. 

Not  many  days  after  the  above  conversation,  Clara 
and  Ellen  were  playing  in  the  sitting-room,  while  Mrs. 
Gray  and  Margaret  were  busily  engaged  in  one  of  the 
upper  rooms,  quilting  a  bed-spread.  There  was  no 
fire  in  the  room  where  the  children  were,  and  it  ap- 
peared perfectly  safe  to  leave  them  together  for  an 
hour  or  two. 

Clara  was  keeping  house,  and  she  frequently  sent 
Ellen  to  different  parts  of  the  room  to  purchase  such 
articles  as  she  supposed  herself  to  need.  Sometimes 
she  was  ordered  to  go  to  the  grocer's  for  tea  and 
sugar,  sometimes  to  the  market  for  meat  and  vegeta- 
bles. Ellen  would  run  cheerfully  to  the  place  pointed 
out,  pick  up  a  bit  of  paper  or  any  thing  else  that  she 
could  find,  and  return  with  it  to  Clara.  I  suppose  you 
have  all  seen  children  playing  in  this  manner. 

"  You  must  have  a  market-basket,  Ellen,"  said 
Clara.  "  I  know  where  there  is  one  that  will  do 
nicely.  It  belongs  to  me,  but  I  never  used  it,  so 
mother  put  it  up  on  the  upper  shelf  in  this  closet.  I 
will  take  it  down." 

Thus  saying,  Clara  opened  the  door  of  the  closet, 
and  stepped  upon  a  chair  that  she  might  reach  the 
basket.  There  were  several  other  things  upon  the 
shelf,  and  amongst  others  a  box  of  small  papers,  neatly 
folded  up  and  carefully  labelled.  When  Clara  took 
her  basket  down  she  upset  this  box,  and  some  of  the 


I   FORGOT.  145 

papers  fell  to  the  floor.  She  picked  them  up  and  put 
them  in  their  place  ;  but  after  she  had  shut  the  door, 
she  saw  that  one  little  parcel  had  fallen  upon  the  table 
near  to  the  closet.  "  Never  mind,"  thought  Clara,  "  I 
will  put  it  back  directly,  as  soon  as  I  have  fixed  the 
basket  for  Ellen." 

They  continued  their  play,  and  an  hour  passed  very 
happily.  Clara  had  forgotten  all  about  the  paper, 
which  still  lay  upon  the  table.  She  was  showing 
Ellen  the  pictures  in  a  large  and  valuable  book  of  her 
father's,  when  Margaret  looked  in  at  the  door,  and 
inquired  if  they  wanted  any  thing. 

"Nothing  at  all,  I  thank  you,  Margaret,"  replied 
Clara ;  "  you  may  quilt  another  hour,  if  you  like. 
We  are  having  a  fine  time." 

Margaret  gave  them  each  a  cake,  and  returned  to 
her  work. 

While  they  were  eating  their  cake,  Clara  saw  a 
little  girl,  of  whom  Ellen  was  very  fond,  driving  her 
hoop  back  and  forth  in  front  of  the  house. 

;'  Oh,  there  is  Mary !  "  she  exclaimed  ;  "  look,  El- 
len, how  fast  she  drives  her  hoop !  I  wish  I  could 
take  you  out  there." 

Ellen  knocked  upon  the  window,  and  called  "Mamy, 
Marny  !  "  but  Mary  did  not  hear. 

"  I  will  run  to  the  door  and  call  her,"  said  Clara, 
13 


146  I   FORGOT. 

"  and  then  she  will  come  and  see  Ellen.  Will  you  sit 
still  while  I  am  gone  ?  " 

Ellen  sat  down  very  quietly,  and  folded  her  hands, 
as  she  always  did  Avhen  asked  to  wait  for  any  one,  and 
Clara  ran  to  the  door  to  call  Mary. 

Mary  was  an  obedient,  thoughtful  child,  and  she 
told  Clara  that  she  could  not  come  without  her  mother's 
leave,  but  if  she  would  wait  a  moment,  she  would 
ask  her. 

The  house  where  Mary  lived  was  next  door  to  Mr. 
Gray's,  so  Clara  promised  to  wait  while  she  asked  her 
mother. 

"  Be  as  quick  as  you  can,  Mary,"  she  said,  "  for  I 
left  Ellen  alone." 

Mary  ran  into  the  house,  but  returned  directly,  say- 
ing, "  I  cannot  come  now,  Clara,  because  mother  wants 
me  to  take  care  of  the  baby.  But  just  look  at  this 
beautiful  present  that  my  aunt  sent  me  last  evening," 
and  she  showed  Clara  a  pretty  little  work-box,  and, 
touching  a  spring,  it  commenced  playing  a  lively  tune. 
"  How  pretty !  "  exclaimed  Clara,  "  I  never  saw  a 
musical  work-box  before  ; "  and  she  stood  still  listen- 
ing to  the  music  until  the  sounds  died  away,  and  the 
box  was  as  silent  as  any  other  work-box. 

"  Oh,  make  it  play  once  more,  Mary  !  "  said  Clara  ; 
and  Mary  again  touched  the  spring,  and  it  played 
another  tune  even  prettier  than  the  first. 


I   FORGOT.  147 

Clara  would  still  have  begged  for  another,  for  the 
music  and  the  pretty  box  had  banished  Wery  thing 
else  from  her  mind ;  but  her  more  thoughtful  com- 
panion reminded  her  that  Ellen  was  alone,  and  that 
she  must  go  to  her  mother. 

"  Oh,  dear  !  "  exclaimed  Clara,  "  I  forgot  all  about 
Ellen  ;  I  hope  she  has  not  cried  for  me.  Perhaps  she 
opened  the  door  and  went  up  stairs.  Sb.3  goes  up 
alone  sometimes.  Good-bye,  Mary,"  and  she  ran 
back  to  the  sitting-room. 

Ellen  had  left  the  seat  where  Clara  had  placed  her, 
and  was  standing  by  the  table,  with  the  little  parcel 
which  had  been  left  there  in  her  hand. 

As  her  cousin  entered  the  room,  she  looked  up  and 
said, — 

"  Ellen  cry  when  Tara  gone, — then  Ellen  find  sugar.'* 

"  Sugar,"  said  Clara,  snatching  the  paper  from  her 
hand.  "  Have  you  been  eating  it,  Ellen  ?  I  wonder 
Avhat  it  is." 

As  she  spoke  she  looked  at  the  writing  upon  the 
back  of  the  paper,  and  saw  "  Sugar  of  Lead  "  written 
upon  it  in  large  letters,  and  the  word  "  poison  "  beneath. 

Clara  saw  that  the  paper  was  now  empty,  and  she 
knew  that  Ellen  must  have  eaten  its  contents.  She 
turned  deadly  pale,  and  for  a  few  moments  stood  mo- 
tionless, as  if  at  a  loss  what  to  do.  Then  rushing  to 
the  staircase,  she  screamed  to  her  mother  and  Mar- 


148  I    FORGOT. 

garet  in  such  a  frantic  manner  that  they  both  ran  to 
her  in  great  alarm. 

"Oh,  mother,  mother !  "  she  sobbed,  "  I  have  killed 
Ellen.  I  left  her  alone  for  a  few  minutes,  while  I 
listened  to  Mary's  music-box,  and  she  has  eaten  some 
sugar  of  lead." 

"  Eaten  sugar  of  lead !  "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Gray.  "  It 
is  impossible,  for  it  was  upon  the  upper  shelf  in  the 
closet ;  she  could  not  have  reached  it." 

"  No,  no,  mother,  she  did  not  reach  it ;  but  I  left  it 
on  the  table,  and  forgot  to  put  it  back,  and  then  I  for- 
got to  return  to  Ellen,  and  stood  listening  to  the  music 
a  long  time.  She  has  eaten  it  all,  and  she  will  die, 
mother.  Oh,  what  shall  I  do  ?  " 

Poor  Margaret  had  caught  Ellen  in  her  arms,  and 
was  now  sobbing  as  if  her  heart  would  break ;  but 
Mrs.  Gray,  with  more  presence  of  mind,  begged  her 
to  be  calm,  and  not  alarm  the  child,  as  any  agitation 
might  hasten  the  effect  of  the  poison. 

"  Do  you,  Margaret,  go  immediately  for  Dr.  Greg- 
ory," she  said,  "  and  Clara  must  go  to  her  father's 
office  and  ask  him  to  come  directly  home.  There  was 
but  a  small  quantity  in  the  paper.  We  may  do  much 
for  her  if  we  are  calm." 

Then,  taking  the  child  in  her  own  arms,  she  spoke 
to  her  in  a  quiet  and  soothing  manner,  and  taking 
her  up  stairs,  gave  her  an  antidote  for  poison,  nnd 


I   FORGOT.  149 

then  amused   her  until  the  physician  and  Mr.   Gray 
arrived. 

Prompt  and  judicious  remedies  in  a  measure  coun- 
teracted the  fatal  effects  of  the  poison,  but  a  serious 
illness  could  not  be  avoided.  For  many  days  little 
Ellen  seemed  to  hover  between  life  and  death,  and 
even  after  the  physician  had  pronounced  her  out  of 
danger,  she  was  for  a  long  time  so  feeble  that  no  one 
would  have  supposed  her  to  be  the  same  child  who 
had  seemed  so  full  of  life  and  health  but  a  few  weeks 
before. 

I  shall  not  attempt  to  describe  the  agony  which  poor 
Clara  suffered  during  the  sickness  of  her  little  cousin. 
Her  parents  treated  her  with  great  kindness,  for  they 
thought  the  lesson  she  had  received  was  sufficiently 
severe,  without  adding  to'it  by  their  reproaches. 

For  a  long  time  she  could  not  bear  to  say  a  word 
upon  the  subject,  but  it  was  evident  that  a  great  change 
was  taking  place  in  her  character.  She  was  now  not 
only  industrious  and  obliging,  but  so  thoughtful  and 
considerate  that  her  friends  soon  felt  willing  to  trust 
her,  even  where  the  greatest  care  was  necessary. 

The  cold  winter  months  had  passed  away,  and 
spring  had  again  returned  to  gladden  the  earth.  Fa- 
vorable accounts  had  been  received  from  Ellen's  parents. 
Her  father's  health  had  improved  rapidly,  and  they 
were  now  about  to  return  home, 
l  i* 


150  I   FORGOT. 

"  Do  you  think  they  will  be  here  in  another  month, 
mother  ?  "  asked  Clara,  as  her  mother  finished  reading 
a  letter  which  she  had  just  received  from  their  distant 
friends. 

"  I  think  they  will,  Clara,"  replied  Mrs.  Gray. 
"  Are  you  prepared  to  part  with  our  dear  Ellen  ?  " 

Clara's  eyes  filled  with  tears  as  she  replied,  "  I  shall 
try  to  be  prepared,  mother,  but  it  will  be  a  great  trial. 
I  always  loved  Ellen  dearly,  and  since  I  came  so  near 
being  the  cause  of  her  death,  I  have  loved  her  more 
than  ever.  Every  day  I  thank  the  Lord  for  His 
mercy  in  restoring  her  to  health.  It  was  a  sad  lesson, 
mother,  but  it  helped  me  to  see  how  really  selfish  I 
was.  I  could  never  quite  understand  why  you  and 
father  should  call  forgetfulness  a  kind  of  selfishness  ; 
but  when  I  sincerely  endeavored  to  become  more 
thoughtful,  I  found  that  the  true  reason  why  I  used  to 
forget  so  often  was  because  I  thought  so  much  more 
of  myself  than  I  did  of  others.  I  now  try  to  be  very 
watchful  of  this  fault,  and  I  pray  to  the  Lord  to  help 
me  put  it  away." 

"  And  you  will  never  look  to  Him  in  vain,  my  dear 
Clara,"  said  Mrs.  Gray.  "  You  have  already  im- 
proved very  much.  Persevere  steadily  in  the  endeavor 
to  remove  selfishness  in  all  its  forms.  It  is  the  foun- 
tain from  which  many  evils  flow." 


THE   SILVER  MORNING 

AND 

THE  GOLDEN  DAY. 


"  O  FATHER  !  please  to  come  to  the  door,  and  see  how 
pretty  everything  looks,"  exclaimed  William  Mason, 
running  eagerly  into  the  room  where  his  father  was 
sitting. 

Mr,  Mason  was  always  glad  to  give  his  son  pleasure, 
and  he  laid  aside  the  newspaper  which  he  was  reading, 
and  followed  him  to  the  door. 

There  had  been  quite  a  heavy  snow-storm  a  few 
days  before,  which  was  succeeded  by  rain,  and  then 
by  severe  cold.  Everything  was  now  entirely  cased  in 
ice. 

"Is  it  not  beautiful,  father?"  said  William.  "I 
have  been  all  around  the  yard  and  garden,  and  every- 
thing has  put  on  its  winter  coat.  Every  little  branch 
and  twig,  every  blade  of  grass,  and  even  the  little 
stones  are  covered  with  ice." 
(151) 


152  THE    SILVER   MORNING 

"  This  is  what  we  used  to  call  a  silver  morning, 
when  I  was  a  boy,"  said  Mr.  Mason. 

"  That  is  a  good  name  for  it,  father,"  replied  Wil- 
liam ;  "  for  everything  shines  like  silver.  Look  at  the 
road  ;  it  is  almost  as  smooth  as  the  pond.  I  think  I 
can  skate  to  school  this  morning." 

"You  would  probably  find  some  rough  places,  which 
would  injure  your  skates,"  replied  Mr.  Mason  ;  "  but 
look  towards  the  east,  my  son,  and  you  will  see  some- 
thing more  beautiful  than  anything  you  have  yet 
observed." 

There  was  a  thick  wood  of  pines  toward  the  east, 
and,  as  William  looked,  he  saw  that  the  trees  glittered 
like  diamonds,  and  he  cculd  see  colors  like  those  of  a 
rainbow  in  every  direction. 

He  clapped  his  hands  with  delight. 

"  O  father,"  he  exclaimed,  "  this  is  the  most  beauti- 
ful sight  of  all.  The  sun  is  rising,  and  soon  it  will 
shine  on  all  the  trees  and  plants,  and  then  everything 
will  look  as  beautiful  as  the  pine  trees  do  now.  It  was 
a  silver  morning,  father,  but  it  will  be  a  golden  day." 

"  It  will,  indeed,"  replied  Mr.  Mason.  "  Every- 
thing looked  cold  and  dead  before  the  rays  of  the  sun 
shone  upon  them,  but  now  all  are  sparkling  with  beauty. 
The  trees  will  soon  lose  their  icy  casing,  but  the  water 
will  sink  into  the  ground,  and  perform  many  important 
uses.  The  frosts  and  snows  of  winter  prepare  the  way 


AND  THE  GOLDEN  DAY.  153 

for  the  warmth  and  beauty  of  spring  and  summer. 
The  earth  rests  from  its  labors,  and  is  in  various  ways 
enriched  and  strengthened." 

"  I  like  all  the  seasons,  father,"  said  William.  "In 
winter,  I  am  so  happy  when  skating  and  sliding  in  the 
fine  cool  air,  that  I  wish  the  weather  might  always  be 
cold ;  but  Avhen  spring  and  summer  and  autumn  come, 
with  their  long  sunny  days,  and  their  beautiful  birds 
and  flowers  and  delicious  fruits,  I  quite  forget  winter 
and  its  pleasures." 

"Yes,  every  season  has  its  delights,"  replied  his 
father;  "but  look,  William,  there  is  one  of  your  school- 
fellows. Is  he  already  on  his  way  to  school  ?  " 

"  Oh,  that  is  only  Louis  Cunningham,"  returned 
William,  glancing  rather  contemptuously  at  a  plainly 
dressed,  but  intelligent  and  manly  looking  boy,  who 
was  passing  by. 

"  Only  Louis  Cunningham"  repeated  Mr.  Mason ! 
"  Well,  is  he  not  one  of  your  school-fellows  ?  " 

"  Why,  yes,  father,  he  goes  to  the  same  school. 
The  master  gives  him  his  schooling  for  making  the 
fire  and  keeping  the  room  in  good  order.  We  call 
him  the  charity  scholar." 

"  I  am  grieved  to  hear  you  speak  in  this  manner," 
said  Mr.  Mason,  gravely.  "  Mr.  Cunningham  died 
when  Louis  was  very  young,  and  his  mother  has  been 
obliged  to  deny  him  many  advantages  of  education, 


154  THE   SILVER   MORNING 

which  she  would  gladly  have  given  him  if  it  had  been 
in  her  power.  Your  teacher  heard  of  their  situation, 
and  finding,  from  conversation  with  Louis,  that  he  was 
an  intelligent  boy,  and  very  desirous  to  learn,  he  kindly 
offered  to  take  him  into  his  school.  But  Louis  and 
his  mother,  although  they  were  very  grateful  for  the 
offer,  felt  unwilling  to  accept  it,  unless  they  could  make 
some  return  for  the  kindness ;  and  it  was  finally  ar- 
ranged, that  Louis  should  take  care  of  the  school-room 
and  make  the  fire,  and  I  have  been  told  that  he  per- 
forms these  duties  very  faithfully." 

"  He  does,  indeed,"  replied  William.  "  The  room 
is  always  warm  and  comfortable,  and  so  nicely  swept 
and  dusted,  that  we  never  have  an/  cause  of  com- 
plaint." 

"  One  would  suppose,  then,  my  son,  that  you  would 
feel  grateful  to  the  person  who  performs  these  kind 
offices,  instead  of  regarding  him  with  contempt  and 
dislike." 

"  Oh,  we  do  not  dislike  Louis,  Father.  He  is 
always  kind  and  obliging ;  but  we  do  not  like  to  see 
him  placed  on  an  equality  with  the  rest  of  the  boys, 
and  often  pronounced  the  best  scholar  in  his  class." 

"  These  are  evil  feelings,  William,  and  I  hope  to 
have  the  pleasure  of  helping  you  put  them  away.  Sit 
down  by  me  in  the  parlor  for  a  few  minutes,  and  we 
will  talk  about  Louis.  Can  you  tell  me  why  the  boys 


AND   THE   GOLDEN   DAT.  155 

think  he  should  not  be  placed  upon  an  equality  with 
them  ?  Is  he  inferior  to  the  others  as  a  scholar,  or  is 
he  a  wicked,  profane  boy?" 

"  Oh  no,  father.  Louis  is  a  very  good  boy,  and  a 
better  scholar  than  many  who  have  had  greater  advan- 
tages ;  but,  as  he  does  not  pay  for  his  schooling,  we 
do  not  think  that  he  is  entitled  to  the  same  privileges 
that  we  are." 

"  Even  if  this  were  the  case,  he  would  be  entitled  to 
every  privilege,  William,  if  Mr.  Grant  chose  to  instruct 
him  without  remuneration  ;  but  Louis  does  pay  for  his 
schooling ;  not  indeed  with  his  father's  money, — be- 
cause the  Lord  has  seen  fit  to  remove  his  father  to  the 
spiritual  world, — but  with  his  own  labor.  Mr.  Grant 
considers  his  services  as  an  equivalent  to  his  instruc- 
tion, and,  according  to  your  own  account,  the  duties 
are  well  performed.  Louis,  then,  pays  for  his  school- 
ing as  much,  or  more,  than  any  boy  in  school  ;  for  the 
others  depend  upon  their  father's  labor,  while  he  de- 
pends upon  his  own.  Your  school  bills,  as  Avell  as 
other  expenses,  are  paid  from  the  proceeds  of  my  daily 
labor  in  my  profession,  and  the  case  is  the  same  with 
the  other  boys  who  attend  your  school." 

"  This  is  very  true,  father,"  replied  William,  "  and 
I  know  it  is  wrong  to  despise  those  who  are  poorer 
than  ourselves.  We  often  laugh  at  Louis,  when  he 
comes  to  school  with  coarse,  patched  clothes  ;  but 


156  THE   SILVER   MORNING 

I  suppose  his  mother  cannot  afford  to  buy  him  any 
better." 

"  She  cannot,  indeed,  William ;  and  of  how  little 
consequence  is  external  clothing,  compared  to  many 
other  things  in  which  Louis  probably  surpasses  your 
other  school-mates.  It  is  right  to  be  neat  and  clean, 
and  as  well  dressed  as  our  circumstances  will  admit ; 
but  the  clothing  of  our  soul  is  of  more  importance 
than  the  clothing  of  our  bodies.  If  Louis  is  indus- 
trious, obedient,  faithful  in  the  performance  of  his 
duties,  and  in  the  endeavor  to  shun  evil  words  and 
deeds,  he  appears  to  the  Lord  and  the  angels  as  if 
clothed  in  the  most  beautiful  raiment." 

William  made  no  reply,  but  appeared  much  inter- 
ested in  what  his  father  was  saying,  and  Mr.  Mason 
continued, — 

u  You  must  ever  remember  the  Golden  Rule,  my 
son.  Think  how  you  would  wish  to  be  treated,  if  you 
were  situated  like  Louis ;  and  then  you  will  be  more 
careful  not  to  wound  his  feelings,  by  contempt  or  idle 
jests." 

"  I  will  try  to  remember,  father.  I  know  I  have 
done  wrong,  and  I  will  begin  to-day,  and  treat  Louis 
just  the  same  as  I  do  the  other  scholars.  Perhaps  I 
may  be  able  to  help  in  soma  way." 

"  These  are  good  resolutions,  my  son  ;  and,  if  they 
are  carried  into  practice,  they  will  do  you  and  others 


AND    THE    GOLDEN    DAY.  157 

much  good.  The  light  has  dawned  in  your  mind.  It 
is  a  silver  morning,  and  the  rays  of  the  spiritual  sun 
will  render  it  a  golden  day" 

Within  an  hour  after  this  conversation,  William  was 
on  his  way  to  school,  with  his  satchel  of  books  and  his 
skates  slung  over  his  shoulder,  and  his  dinner  pail  in 
his  hand.  He  was  soon  joined  by  several  companions, 
and  each  boy  tried  to  display  his  skill  in  keeping  his 
balance  on  the  glare  ice,  which  to  many  would  have 
rendered  the  road  almost  impassable.  But  boys  have 
little  fear  of  ice  and  snow,  and,  half  running  and  half 
sliding,  they  soon  reached  the  school-house,  where  they 
found,  as  usual,  a  comfortable  and  neatly  arranged 
room. 

Louis  Cunningham  was  busily  engaged  at  his  desk, 
and,  being  little  accustomed  to  any  morning  saluta- 
tions from  his  school-fellows,  he  did  not  look  up  when 
they  entered.  He  was  somewhat  surprised  to  hear 
William  exclaim  :  "  Good  morning,  Louis.  What  a 
grand  fire  you  have  got  for  us.  I  am  sure  we  are 
much  obliged  to  you,  this  cold  morning." 

"You  are  very  welcome,"  he  replied  with  a  pleasant 
smile.  "  I  came  earlier  than  usual,  on  account  of 
the  severe  cold.  I  am  glad  you  find  the  room  com- 
fortable." 

"  I  should  not  have  liked  to  have  been  the  one  to 
make  the  fire  this  morning,"  remarked  one  of  the  boys. 
14 


158  THE   SILVER   MORNING 

"  In  many  schools  the  scholars  take  turns  in  cleaning 
the  room  and  making  the  fire." 

"It  is  not  fair  that  they  should  do  so,"  observed 
another.  "  Their  parents  pay  for  their  schooling,  and 
it  is  not  right  that  they  should  be  obliged  to  spend 
their  time  and  injure  their  clothes  in  sweeping  rooms 
and  making  fires.  It  does  well  enough  for  those  who 
cannot  pay." 

"  For  shame  !  John  Gray,"  exclaimed  William. 
"You  should  not  speak  so  thoughtlessly.  You  trouble 
Louis,"  he  added  in  a  whisper. 

John  was  a  kind-hearted  boy,  but  rude  and  thought- 
less in  his  manners. 

"  I  do  not  wish  to  trouble  Louis,"  he  said  aloud. 
"  I  only  spoke  the  truth." 

The  color,  which  had  deepened  on  Louis's  cheek, 
faded  away,  and  he  said,  kindly, — 

"  You  do  not  trouble  me,  John.  I  agree  with  you 
in  thinking  that  those  •  whose  pai-ents  can  pay  for  their 
schooling  should  not  be  expected  to  take  care  of  the 
room.  But  as  I  am  situated,  I  regard  it  as  a  very 
great  favor  that  I  am  in  this  way  enabled  to  earn  my 
own  schooling." 

"  It  is  a  great  favor  to  us,"  exclaimed  several  boys. 
"We  never  before  had  so  neat  and  comfortable  a 
room." 

The  entrance  of  Mr.  Grant,  the  teacher,  prevented 


AND    THE    GOLDEN    DAY.  159 

any  farther  conversation,  and  each  boy  quietly  took  his 
seat,  and  performed  his  accustomed  duties. 

At  noon,  there  was  fine  sport  with  coasting  and 
skating,  but,  in  the  midst  of  his  play,  William  remem- 
bered his  promise  to  his  father;  and,  finding  that 
Louis  Avas  not  among  his  companions,  he  sought  him 
in  the  school-house.  He  found  him  seated  at  his  desk, 
busily  engaged  with  a  pencil  and  piece  of  paper. 

"Come,  Louis,"  he  exclaimed,  "Come  and  play 
with  us.  There  is  fine  skating  on  the  pond." 

"  Thank  you,"  replied  Louis,  "  but  I  have  no  skates 
this  winter.  I  had  a  pair  once,  but  they  are  worn 
out." 

"  Then  I  will  lend  you  mine,  and  I  will  slide  for  a 
little  while.  I  shall  like  that  quite  as  well.  Do 
come,"  urged  William ;  and,  as  he  spoke,  he  ap- 
proached the  desk,  and  looked  at  the  picture  which 
Louis  was  drawing. 

"  Why,  Louis  !  "  he  said,  with  an  expression  of  sur- 
prise, "  I  had  no  idea  that  you  could  draw  so  beauti- 
fully. You  almost  equal  our  drawing-master.  Who 
taught  you  ?  " 

"  No  one,"  replied  Louis.  "  I  love  to  draw.  If  it 
were  not  wrong  to  neglect  other  duties,  I  would  spend 
every  day  in  doing  nothing  else." 

"  Why  do  you  not  take  lessons  with  the  rest  of  us, 
Louis  ?  I  am  sure  our  drawing-master  would  be  proud 


160  TH£    SILVER    MORNING 

of  such  a  pupil.  How  you  would  laugh  at  our  strange- 
looking  pictures  !  " 

"  Mr.  Grant  is  very  kind,  to  give  me  so  many  other 
advantages,"  answered  Louis  ;  "  I  should  not  like  to 
-ask  the  privilege  of  a  seat  at  the  drawing-tables,  and 
then  the  pencils  and  paper  are  quite  an  expense.  And 
if  I  learned  to  paint,  it  Avould  be  still  more  expensive  ; 
but,  oh !  I  should  love  to  learn  so  much,"  and  his  face 
grew  bright  with  pleasure  at  the  very  thought. 

"  You  must  learn,  Louis  ;  I  am  resolved  that  you 
shall,"  said  William ;  "  but  come  now,  and  have  one 
good  play  before  school." 

Thus  urged,  Louis  joined  his  companions,  and,  en- 
couraged by  William's  example,  all  received  him 
kindly,  and  were  careful  to  allow  him  equal  rights 
with  themselves,  and  not  to  wound  his  feelings  by 
foolish  jokes  and  sarcastic  observations. 

About  fifteen  minutes  before  the  hour  for  school  to 
commence,  William  saw  Mr.  Grant  enter  the  school- 
house,  and,  quietly  leaving  his  play-fellows,  he  hastened 
to  follow  him. 

Taking  from  Louis's  desk  the  picture  upon  which 
he  had  been  so  busily  engaged  at  noon,  he  presented 
it  to  the  teacher,  saying, — 

"  Is  not  this  pretty  well  done,  sir  ?  " 

"  Remarkably  well,"  replied  Mr.  Grant.  "You  have 
improved  wonderfully,  William." 


AND   THE   GOLDEN   DAY.  161 

"  It  is  not  mine,  sir.  Louis  did  it.  He  has  never 
had  any  instruction  in  drawing,  but  I  am  sure  if  you 
will  allow  him  a  seat  at  the  drawing-tables,  he  will 
soon  equal  our  drawing-master  himself." 

"  He  shall  have  every  advantage,  certainly,"  replied 
Mr.  Grant.  "  I  am  pleased  with  your  request,  Wil- 
liam ;  for  I  have  observed  with  pain  that  some  of  the 
scholars  regard  Louis  with  feelings  of  contempt  and 
dislike,  which  are  certainly  quite  undeserved." 

"  I  have  been  in  fault  in  this  respect,"  replied  Wil- 
liam, blushing  deeply,  "  but  my  father  has  convinced 
me  that  such  feelings  are  very  wrong,  and  I  am  resolved 
to  do  better." 

"  I  am  glad  that  you  have  made  so  good  a  resolu- 
tion, William.  Your  example  will  help  the  other 
scholars  to  do  right  also.  You  may  have  the  pleasure 
of  telling  Louis  that  he  can  receive  regular  instruction 
in  drawing,  on  the  afternoons  when  the  drawing-master 
attends  the  school." 

"  Thank  you,  sir,"  replied  William,  and  he  joyfully 
returned  to  his  play-fellows. 

A  few  whispered  words  told  Louis  of  what  had 
passed,  and  the  glow  of  pleasure  which  suffused  his 
countenance,  and  the  warm  pressure  of  the  hand, 
amply  rewarded  William  for  his  kindness. 

"  I  have  pencils  and  paper  enough  for  both,  Louis," 
14* 


162  THE    SILVER   MORNING 

he  continued,  "  and  I  know  my  father  will  be  glad  to 
have  me  share  them  with  you." 

The  sound  of  the  bell  now  summoned  the  whole 
party  to  the  school-room,  and  as  this  was  the  afternoon 
for  the  drawing-master,  William  had  the  pleasure  of 
seeing  his  new  friend  seated  by  his  side,  and  of  hearing 
the  warm  commendations  which  were  bestowed  upon 
the  contents  of  his  little  portfolio,  which,  at  the  request 
of  the  teacher,  Louis  modestly  exhibited. 

Much  of  the  ice  in  the  streets  had  melted  away,  but 
the  trees  were  still  glittering  in  the  bright  sunlight, 
when  William  left  the  school-house  and  took  the  road 
toward  home.  To  him  everything  seemed  even  more 
beautiful  than  it  had  done  in  the  morning,  for  his  heart 
was  filled  with  that  happiness  which  always  results 
from  doing  good.  His  father  met  him  at  the  door. 

"Well,  my  son,"  he  said,  "has  it  been  a  golden  day 
with  you  ?  " 

"  It  has,  indeed,  father,"  replied  William.  "  I  have 
remembered  what  you  told  me,  and  I  have  already 
found  an  opportunity  to  do  Louis  some  good." 

Mr.  Mason  listened  with  much  interest  to  William's 
little  story,  and  gladly  gave  him  leave  to  assist  Louis, 
by  lending  him  his  own  drawing  implements. 

It  was  pleasing  to  observe  the  effect  which  William's 
example  of  friendliness  to  Louis  had  upon  the  rest  of 
the  scholars.  He  was  no  longer  regarded  with  con- 


AND    THE    GOLDEN   DAY.  163 

tempt  or  indifference,  but  became  as  great  a  favorite 
with  the  boys  as  a  play-fellow,  as  he  was  with  the 
master  as  a  scholar.  The  younger  boys  looked  to  him 
for  assistance  in  all  their  pleasures  and  troubles,  for 
they  found  that  he  was  always  willing  to  give  up  his 
own  pleasure  for  the  sake  of  making  them  happy ;  and 
the  older  ones  frequently  assisted  him  in  his  duties  in 
the  school-room,  in  order  to  gain  so  valuable  a  com- 
panion in  their  plays. 

His  improvement  in  drawing  and  painting  was  so 
rapid,  that,  before  many  months  had  elapsed,  the 
drawing-master  declared  he  could  teach  him  nothing 
more,  and  advised  him  to  procure  a  situation  in  some 
of  the  large  schools  in  the  neighborhood,  as  teacher 
of  these  branches.  But  about  this  time  circumstances 
occurred,  which  induced  Mrs.  Cunningham  to  remove 
to  a  distant  part  of  the  country,  and  Louis  was  obliged 
to  bid  farewell  to  his  teachers  and  companions. 

All  parted  from  him  with  regret,  but  none  felt  the 
loss  so  keenly  as  William  Mason.  He  had  been  the 
first  among  the  boys  to  love  Louis  and  endeavor  to 
assist  him ;  and,  although  the.  latter  was  some  years 
older,  a  warm  attachment  had  sprung  up  between 
them. 

Many  years  passed  before  they  again  met.  Both 
had  grown  to  manhood,  but  the  remembrance  of  their 
early  days  was  still  fresh  in  their  minds.  William 


164  THE    SILVER    MORNING 

Avas  travelling  through  the  principal  States  of  the 
Union,  aiid  stopped  for  the  night  in  one  of  our  most 
flourishing  cities.  In  the  course  of  the  evening  he 
visite  1,  with  some  of  his  friends,  a  gallery  of  paintings 
Avhich  had  been  particularly  recommended  to  his  notice. 
The  collection  was  a  fine  one,  and  an  hour  soon  passed 
pleasantly  aAvay.  At  length  William  suddenly  stopped 
before  a  small  picture,  and  uttered  an  exclamation  of 
surprise,  which  brought  his  friends  to  his  side.  The 
scene  represented  was  not  a  remarkable  one, — a  bright 
winter's  morning,  and  a  lad  with  a  satchel  of  books 
and  a  pair  of  skates  slung  upon  his  shoulder,  and  a 
dinner-pail  in  his  hand,  quietly  pursuing  his  way  to 
school. 

"  What  do  you  find  surprising  hi  this  ?  "  asked  one 
of  William's  companions.  "It  is  a  spirited  little 
sketch,  to  be  sure.  That  lad  bears  a  strong  resem- 
blance to  you,  William." 

"  It  is  myself,"  exclaimed  William  ;  "  and  there  is 
the  old  school-house  in  the  distance,  and  the  pond 
where  we  used  to  skate.  Every  object  in  the  picture 
is  familiar  to  me,  even  that  old  tree  which  seems  so 
completely  cased  in  ice.  I  must  find  the  name  of  the 
artist." 

"That  is  easily  ascertained,"  replied  his  companion, 
turning  to  the  catalogue  which  he  held  in  his  hand ; 
"  Cunningham,  Louis  Cunningham.  There  are  seve- 


AND    THE    GOLDEN    DAY.  165 

ral  other  fine  pictures  in  the  gallery  by  the  same  per- 
son. Do  you  know  him,  William  ?  " 

"  He  is  an  old  school-mate  and  particular  friend," 
replied  William  ;  "I  must  inquire  if  he  resides  in  this 
city." 

Louis  Cunningham's  address  was  easily  obtained, 
and  William  had  the  pleasure  of  hearing  him  spoken 
of  as  a  young  artist  of  uncommon  talents.  At  an 
early  hour  the  following  morning  he  sought  his  early 
friend,  and  received  a  warm  welcome.  Louis's  story 
was  soon  told.  His  mother's  situation  in  life  had  been 
improved,  by  a  legacy  left  by  a  distant  relative,  and 
she  was  thus  enabled  to  give  her  son  many  advantages. 
He  had  travelled  in  Europe,  and  received  the  best 
instruction  in  his  favorite  pursuit,  and  his  name  was 
now  becoming  widely  known  as  one  of  our  best  Amer- 
ican artists. 

"  But  I  have  not  forgotten  the  old  school-house,  and 
our  boyish  days,  dear  William,"  he  continued;  "and  I 
do  not  forget  that  my  first  instructions  in  drawing  were 
received  through  your  kindness.  It  was  a  bright  day 
to  me  when  I  was  first  seated  at  the  drawing-table, 
and  allowed  free  access  to  your  pencils  and  paper." 

"  I  remember  it,  as  if  it  were  but  yesterday,"  re- 
plied William.  "  We  had  indulged  a  strange  prejudice 
against  you  up  to  that  day,  Louis.  My  father  had 
labored  hard  that  bright  and  beautiful  morning,  to  show 


166  THE    SILVER   MORNING,    ETC. 

me  the  sin  of  which  I  was  guilty,  in  indulging  such 
feelings,  and  his  words  sunk  deep  in  my  heart.  When 
I  parted  from  him,  at  school  time,  he  remarked  on  the 
beautiful  appearance  of  the  earth,  clad  in  its  robe  of 
silver,  but  pointed  out  the  new  beauty  it  would  receive 
when  the  rays  of  the  sun  should  fall  upon  it ;  and  he 
prayed  that  the  rays  of  the  spiritual  sun  might  thus 
vivify  and  add  new  beauty  to  the  good  resolutions 
springing  up  in  my  mind,  that  the  silver  morning  might 
become  the  golden  day." 

"  It  was  indeed  a  golden  day  to  me,"  said  Louis, 
with  emotion.  "  A  fountain  of  kind  feelings,  which 
had  been  checked  by  the  coldness  of  my  companions, 
gushed  forth  at  the  kindness  with  which  you  treated 
me  ;  and  it  seemed  as  if  from  that  time  all  coldness 
toward  me  disappeared,  and  I  was  treated  by  all  with 
kindness  which  I  have  ever  remembered  with  gratitude. 
The  little  picture  which  you  saw  in  the  gallery  is  a 
proof  of  my  remembrance  of  that  day.  You  must 
take  it  to  your  father,  as  a  token  of  my  respect  and 
love." 

"  I  will  gladly  do  so,"  replied  William.  "  My 
father  will  receive  it  with  pleasure,  and  it  shall  hang 
in  our  room  as  a  memento  of  our  early  friendship, 
and  of  a  day  which  I  shall  always  remember  with 
pleasing  reflections." 


TWO  SIDES  TO  A  STORY. 


"  I  SHOULD  not  think  you  would  let  him  off  so  easily, 
father,"  exclaimed  Herbert  Archer,  as  he  listened  to  a 
conversation  between  his  father  and  a  poor  tenant  who 
begged  for  a  little  delay  in  the  usual  demand  for  the 
rent. 

"  And  why  not,  my  son  ?  "  replied  Mr.  Archer,  as 
they  continued  the  walk  which  had  been  thus  inter- 
rupted. "  He  is  poor  and  has  been  unfortunate.  The 
wealthy  should  not  be  indifferent  to  the  sufferings  of 
those  less  prosperous  than  themselves." 

"  I  know  they  should  not,  father ;  but  did  I  not 
hear  you  say  last  winter  that  you  would  not  assist 
Simon  Brown  again,  for  it  was  only  encouraging  him 
in  idleness  ?  Do  you  not  remember  what  we  were 
told  about  his  allowing  his  poor  wife,  with  her  feeble 
health,  to  go  out  to  wash,  while  he  remained  sitting 
quietly  at  home  smoking  his  pipe  and  attending  to  the 
children  ?  " 

(167) 


168  TWO   SIDES   TO   A    STORY. 

"  I  do  recollect  it  well,  Herbert ;  but  my  conclusions 
were  too  hasty.  Upon  inquiry  I  found  that  there  was 
another  side  to  the  story.  Poor  Simon  had  the  rheum- 
atism so  badly  that  for  several  weeks  he  could  not 
walk  one  step.  In  this  situation  he  could  do  nothing 
better  than  to  make  himself  useful  in  the  house,  while 
his  wife  procured  what  work  she  could  to  aid  in  the 
support  of  their  family.  The  truth  is,  my  son,  there 
is  almost  always  two  sides  to  a  story,  and  if  we  sus- 
pend our  judgment  until  we  are  sure  that  we  know  all 
the  particulars,  we  shall  avoid  the  injustice  which  too 
often  results  from  hasty  decisions." 

Herbert  listened  with  respect  and  attention  to  his 
father's  words,  and  acknowledged  their  truth ;  but  it 
was  not  until  after  several  useful  lessons  that  he  learned 
to  put  this  simple  rule  in  practice. 

Among  the  most  valued  of  his  playthings  was  a  fine 
kite,  remarkable  for  its  beauty  and  the  swiftness  of  its 
flight. 

On  his  return  from  school  one  pleasant  afternoon, 
Herbert  perceived  that  there  was  a  fine  breeze,  and 
hastily  putting  away  his  books,  ran  for  his  kite.  But, 
to  his  surprise,  it  was  not  in  its  proper  place.  Who 
could  have  taken  it  ?  He  felt  quite  sure  that  he  put  it 
away  when  he  last  played  with  it,  and  he  felt  much 
displeased  that  any  one  should  have  ventured  to  touch 
it  without  his  leave. 


TWO    SIDES   TO   A   STORY.  169 

He  inquired  of  his  mother  and  sisters,  but  they 
knew  nothing  of  it.  He  then  went  to  the  kitchen,  and 
Alice,  the  chambermaid,  told  him  that  about  an  hour 
before  she  had  seen  his  younger  brother,  Henry,  with 
it  in  his  hand. 

"  He  had  no  business  to  touch  it  without  my  leave,'' 
exclaimed  Herbert  angrily.  "  I  wish  he  would  learn 
to  let  my  things  alone,"  and  his  feelings  toward  his 
brother  were  filled  with  unkindness. 

He  went  to  the  barn  in  search  of  him,  but  Henry 
was  not  there.  In  one  corner,  however,  he  discovered 
his  kite,  soiled  and  torn,  with  the  sticks  broken  and 
the  tail  draggled  in  the  dirt.  This  sight  vexed  him 
still  more,  and  he  seized  a  little  wagon  which  he  had 
been  making  for  his  brother  that  morning,  and  dashed 
it  in  pieces. 

"  He  is  a  naughty,  bad  boy,"  he  exclaimed,  "  and  I 
will  do  nothing  for  him." 

Upon  further  inquiry,  he  found  that  Henry  had 
received  permission  to  pass  the  afternoon  at  their 
Uncle's,  and  would  not  return  until  evening. 

For  several  hours  Herbert  suffered  evil  thoughts  and 
feelings  against  his  brother  to  remain  in  his  mind,  and 
he  complained  to  his  mother  and  several  others  of  the 
injury  which  had  been  done  to  his  favorite  kite  ;  and 
when  his  father  came  in  to  tea,  he  repeated  the  story 
15 


170  TWO   SIDES   TO   A   STORY. 

to  him,  with  many  severe  comments  on  the  unkindness 
of  his  brother. 

He  felt  Somewhat  rebuked  when  his  father  said 
quietly,  "  Wait  till  you  hear  your  brother's  explana- 
tion, my  son.  .Remember  there  are  always  two  sides 
to  a  story." 

"  There  cannot  be  two  sides  to  this  one,  father,  for 
Alice  saw  Henry  with  the  kite  in  his  hand,  and  no  one 
else  has  touched  it." 

"  Strong  proof,  certainly,  Herbert ;  but,  neverthe- 
less, suspend  your  judgment  until  Henry  comes.  It  is 
possible  that  he  did  not  tear  the  kite." 

Herbert  was  silenced,  but  not  convinced.  His  feel- 
ings were  not  changed,  and  he  met  Henry  in  a  sullen 
and  irritated  manner. 

"  Oh,  Herbert !  "  exclaimed  the  little  boy,  "  I  wish 
you  could  have  been  with  me.  I  have  had  such  a 
delightful  play  with  my  cousins.  I  should  have  been 
quite  happy  all  the  afternoon,  only  I  could  not  help 
thinking  of  your  poor  kite.  Did  you  see  it  in  the 
barn  ?  " 

"  To  be  sure  I  did,"  replied  Herbert,  crossly ;  "  I 
wish  you  had  taken  a  fancy  to  destroy  some  other  of 
my  playthings  and  let  my  kite  alone." 

"  Why,  Herbert,  I  did  not  destroy  it.  I  found  our 
dog  Pompey  playing  with  it  in  the  yard.  I  do  not 
know  where  he  got  it,  but  I  took  it  away  as  quickly  as 


TWO    SIDES   TO    A    STORY.  171 

I  could.  I  was  very  sorry  that  I  did  not  see  him 
before  it  was  spoiled." 

A  deep  blush  of  shame  overspread  Herbert's  face  as 
he  thought  of  the  wicked  and  unkind  feelings  which  he 
had  harbored  for  so  many  hours.  He  now  remem- 
bered perfectly,  that,  being  called  away  in  haste,  he 
had  left  his  kite  beneath  a  tree  in  the  yard,  and  no 
doubt  Pompey  had  found  it  there.  There  was,  indeed, 
two  sides  to  this  story,  and  now  that  the  truth  was 
known,  it  was  quite  plain  that  he  alone  was  to  blame 
for  the  accident. 

His  sorrow  was  increased  when  Henry  eagerly  in- 
quired if  he  had  finished  the  little  wagon  which  he 
had  begun  for  him  in  the  morning. 

It  was  hard  to  tell  his  affectionate  little  brother  that 
he  had  been  so  very  angry  with  him  for  his  supposed 
injury,  that  he  had  purposely  destroyed  the  wagon 
from  which  he  had  expected  so  much  pleasure ;  but 
Herbert,  though  often  hasty  and  passionate,  was  an 
honest  boy,  and  he  answered  frankly, — 

"  I  have  done  very  wrong  to-day,  Henry.  I  sup- 
posed that  you  had  taken  my  kite  without  leave,  and 
had  carelessly  spoiled  it,  and  I  felt  so  angry  that  I 
tossed  the  wagon  upon  the  ground  and  broke  it ;  but, 
if  you  will  forgive  me,  I  will  make  you  a  much  larger 
and  better  one  to-morrow." 

Henry  readily  expressed  his  forgiveness,  and  Her- 


172  TWO   SIDES   TO   A   STORY. 

bert,  of  his  own  accord,  sought  his  father  and  told  him 
"  the  other  side  of  the  story." 

For  some  time  the  little  incident  of  the  kite  was 
well  remembered,  and  served  as  a  warning  to  Herbert 
to  be  less  hasty  in  judging  evil  of  others  ;  but  as  the 
recollection  of  it  faded  from  his  mind,  he  was  frequently 
led  into  the  same  error,  and  often  had  cause  to  repent 
of  his  rash  decisions. 

Among  his  schoolfellows  was  the  son  of  a  poor 
widow,  who  had,  until  lately,  labored  hard  with  the 
neighboring  farmers  to  aid  his  mother  in  the  support 
of  her  little  family.  His  admittance  into  the  school 
occasioned  considerable  surprise  among  the  scholars, 
who  had  hitherto  regarded  him  as  on  a  footing  with 
their  fathers'  Avorkmen,  rather  than  on  an  equality 
with  themselves ;  and  there  were  some  who  were 
wicked  and  foolish  enough  to  wonder  what  business 
William  Camden  had  to  attend  the  best  school  in  the 
neighborhood,  and  where  he  got  the  money  to  pay  for 
his  tuition. 

The  greater  part,  however,  were  pleased  that  he 
could  have  so  good  an  opportunity  for  acquiring  know- 
ledge, and  were  surprised  to  find  that  he  had  already 
made  great  progress  in  many  branches  which  they 
were  pursuing. 

Herbert  Archer  seemed  particularly  pleased  with 
the  studiousness  and  good  behavior  of  the  widow's  son, 


TWO   SIDES   TO    A   STORY.  173 

and  with  the  consent  of  his  parents  frequently  aided 
him  in  various  ways,  by  presents  of  suitable  books  and 
other  things  necessary  to  his  advancement. 

There  Avas  one  circumstance,  however,  in  regard  to 
William  for  which  Herbert  found  it  difficult  to  account. 
He  was  frequently  absent  from  school  for  whole  days, 
and  when  his  companions  inquired  the  cause,  he  would 
answer  indefinitely  that  his  time  had  been  much  occu- 
pied. The  teacher  expressed  no  displeasure  on  these 
occasions,  which  had  the  effect  of  assuring  the  scholars 
that  all  was  right,  until  one  unfortunate  day,  when  a 
boy,  who  had  appeared  to  regard  William  with  con- 
tempt and  dislike  from  his  first  entrance  into  the  school, 
made  a  discovery  which  he  eagerly  communicated  to 
the  other  pupils,  hoping  thereby  to  convince  them  that 
his  opinion  was  well  founded. 

"  Who  would  like  to  know  the  reason  why  William 
Camden  stays  from  school  so  often  ?  "  he  exclaimed,  as 
he  entered  the  school-room,  where  many  of  the  boys 
were  assembled. 

A  large  group  immediately  gathered  around  him, 
and  he  continued  in  a  sarcastic,  contemptuous  tone, — 

"I  have  at  length  found  out  the  useful  business 
which  so  occupies  his  time.  He  is  fond  of  wandering 
in  the  woods  and  fields,  amusing  himself  with  robbing 
birds'  nests." 

"  For  shame,  George  Wilson,"  replied  Herbert 
15* 


174  TWO    SIDES   TO   A   STORY. 

Archer.  "  It  is  impossible  that  you  have  detected 
William  engaged  in  so  senseless  and  cruel  a  sport." 

"  Impossible  or  not,  Master  Archer,"  retorted  the 
other,  "it  is  nevertheless  a  fact,  and  I  can  give  you 
ample  proof  of  the  truth  of  my  words.  One  of  my 
father's  workmen  has  recently  been  engaged  in  cutting 
down  several  large  trees  in  the  wood  adjoining  our 
house.  On  the  last  day  that  William  was  absent  from 
school,  he  assures  me  that  he  spent  the  whole  of  our 
school  hours  in  climbing  trees  and  robbing  the  pretty 
birds  of  their  young.  He  reproved  him  for  his  cruelty, 
but  William  only  replied  that  he  had  a  use  for  them,' 
and  went  on  his  way.  Probably  he  intended  to  enjoy 
the  pleasure  of  giving  the  poor  things  to  his  cat." 

Herbert,  who  was  a  great  enemy  to  all  cruelty, 
could  hardly  restrain  his  indignation,  and  as  William 
entered  at  that  moment,  he  turned  to  him  abruptly, 
and  demanded,  with  some  authority  of  manner,  if  it 
was  true  that  he  had  stayed  from  school  a  few  days 
before  for  the  purpose  of  robbing  birds'  nests  ?  Some- 
what hurt  and  offended  at  the  tone  in  which  Herbert 
addressed  him,  and  at  the  indignant  countenances  of 
his  schoolmates,  William  answered,  rather  shortly, — 

"  That  it  was  perfectly  true  that  he  had  taken  several 
young  birds  from  their  nests  a  day  or  two  previous, 
and  thought  it  quite  probable  that  he  should  do  so 
atrain,  if  it  suited  his  convenience." 


TWO   SIDFS   TO   A   STORY.  175 

This  was  a  wrong  way  of  answering,  and  only  in- 
creased the  ill  feeling  which  prevailed  against  him. 
George  Wilson  looked  triumphantly  at  Herbert,  who 
was  only  restrained  from  a  burst  of  passion  by  the 
entrance  of  the  teacher,  and  the  usual  summons  to 
their  studies. 

After  school,  instead  of  joining  William,  as  usual, 
that  they  might  walk  part  of  the  way  together,  Her- 
bert carefully  avoided  him,  and  selecting  another  com- 
panion, declared  his  intention  of  having  nothing  more 
to  do  with  one  who  could  thus  wantonly  engage  in 
cruel  sport. 

This  resolution  he  also  expressed  to  his  father,  after 
relating  to  him  the  circumstances  which  had  come  to 
his  knowledge.  Mr.  Archer  shook  his  head,  saying, 
"  Are  you  sure  there  are  not  two  sides  to  the  story, 
my  son?"  But  Herbert  replied  in  a  positive  manner 
that  there  could  not  be  another  side,  as  William  had 
himself  admitted  the  truth  of  the  charge. 

Nothing  farther  was  said  upon  the  subject,  and  Mr. 
Archer  soon  forgot  the  whole  affair. 

Weeks  passed  on,  and  the  intimacy  between  the  two 
boys  was  not  resumed.  William  continued  to  absent 
himself  occasionally  from  school,  and  several  boys  tes- 
tified that  they  had  two  or  three  times  met  him  with 
young  birds  in  his  hand,  and  when  asked  what  he 
intended  doing  with  them,  he  had  replied  in  his  usual 
unsatisfactory  manner. 


176  TWO    SIDES   TO   A    STORY. 

One  day,  as  Herbert  was  returning  from  school,  he 
met  an  old  friend  of  his  father's,  a  gentleman  residing 
in  a  neighboring  town,  at  whose  house  he  had  often 
visited,  and  with  whom  he  was  very  familiar.  Mr. 
Morgan  was  a  widower,  aad  he  had  one  little  son 
several  years  younger  than  Herbert,  to  whose  welfare 
he  was  constantly  devoted. 

"  I  am  glad  to  see  you,  Herbert,"  he  said,  kindly ; 
"it  is  a  long  time  since  you  have  visited  me.  My 
little  Arthur  has  missed  you  very  much." 

"  TVe  shall  soon  have  a  vacation  at  our  school," 
replied  Herbert,  "  and  then  I  shall  be  much  pleased  to 
corae  and  see  you.  My  studies  occupy  me  very  closely 
just  now." 

"  That  is  right,  my  boy.  Youth  is  the  time  for 
improvement.  Speaking  of  your  school  reminds  me 
of  one  of  your  schoolfellows,  of  whom  I  should  like 
your  opinion,  for  I  know  that  boys  have  many  oppor- 
tunities of  finding  out  each  other's  characters,  and  I 
can  rely  upon  your  statement.  I  refer  to  William 
Camclen.  I  knew  his  father  well.  He  was  a  sensible, 
honest  man,  and  I  have  often  thought  that  I  should 
like  to  do  something  for  his  family.  I  have  lately 
formed  a  plan  for  travelling  for  the  next  two  or  three 
years  with  my  little  boy,  and  I  have  concluded,  if  I 
can  find  a  well-principled  lad,  somewhat  advanced  in 
•ratio:),  to  take  him  with  us  as  a  sort  of  tutor 


TWO    SIDES   TO    A    STORY.  i  <  / 

and  companion  for  Arthur.  I  shall  watch  over  them 
both  myself,  and  shall  procure  the  best  instruction  in 
my  power  at  the  different  places  Avhere  we  may  sojourn  ; 
but  there  are  many  of  the  common  branches  which 
Arthur  Avould  learn  even  more  readily  from  a  sensible 
lad,  a  few  years  his  senior,  than  from  an  older  person, 
and  he  would  at  the  same  time  have  the  advantage  of 
a  pleasant  companion.  The  great  difficulty  is  to  find 
one  on  whose  principles  and  habits  I  can  fully  depend. 
I  have  thought  of  William  Camden,  as  I  have  often 
heard  him  well  spoken  of.  His  mother  depends  some- 
what upon  his  assistance,  but  I  will  make  that  easy 
for  them.  Now,  tell  me  plainly  what  you  think  of 
William." 

Herbert  hesitated,  for  he  knew  that  the  proposition 
of  Mr.  Morgan  would  be  of  great  advantage  to  his 
schoolfellow ;  and,  in  spite  of  his  present  dislike  to 
William,  he  was  unwilling  to  say  any  thing  which 
might  deprive  him  of  an  advantageous  offer.  But  he 
thought  it  right  to  tell  the  whole  truth,  and  he  answered, 
with  some  indignation  in  his  manner, — 

"  A  few  weeks  ago,  sir,  I  should  have  thought  that 
William  Camden  would  have  suited  your  purpose  bet- 
ter than  any  boy  of  my  acquaintance,  but  I  fear  I  was 
deceived  in  him.  He  frequently  stays  from  school, 
and  passes  his  time  in  the  woods  engaged  in  the  cruel 
sport  of  robbing  birds'  nests." 


178  TWO   SIDES   TO    A    STORY. 

"  Cruel  sport,  indeed  ! "  exclaimed  Mr.  Morgan. 
"  A  boy  who  will  do  that  must  be  destitute  of  kind 
and  generous  feelings.  It  may  seem  a  trifle,  but  it 
would  decide  me  at  once  not  to  make  him  the  com- 
panion of  my  son.  You  are  sure  that  there  is  no 
mistake  in  this  matter,  Herbert  ?  " 

"  Quite  sure,  sir.  I  heard  William  acknowledge  it 
myself.  I  was  very  unwilling  to  believe  it  until  there 
was  no  room  for  doubt." 

"  I  am  glad  I  met  with  you,"  remarked  his  friend. 
"  I  have  another  boy  in  view,  who  will  perhaps  suit 
me  better.  I  must  make  all  proper  inquiries." 

Thus  saying,  he  bade  Herbert  good  afternoon,  and 
rode  away  in  the  direction  of  his  own  home. 

A  few  days  after,  Herbert  accompanied  his  father  to 
a  large  town  several  miles  distant  from  their  own 
home.  While  his  father  was  engaged  in  the  transac- 
tion of  business,  he  walked  slowly  through  the  prin- 
cipal streets,  amusing  himself  with  what  was  passing 
around  him,  and  occasionally  stopping  to  look  at  some- 
thing attractive  in  the  shop  windows.  At  length  he 
became  much  interested  in  watching  the  quick  motions 
of  several  birds  of  different  kinds,  whose  cages  were 
suspended  at  the  door  of  a  bird  fancier's  establishment. 

As  he  stood  looking  at  their  lively  movements  and 
listening  to  their  sweet  songs,  he  was  suprised  to 
observe  WilMam  Camden  standing  in  the  shop  with  a 


TWO    SIDES   TO   A   STORY.  179 

large  cage  in  his  hand  containing  a  great  many  young 
birds  of  various  kinds,  for  which  he  appeared  to  be 
just  concluding  a  bargain  with  the  bird  fancier. 

"  This,  then,  is  what  he  does  with  his  young  birds," 
thought  Herbert ;  "  but  why  was  he  so  secret  about 
it?" 

At  this  instant  William  turned  around  and  recog- 
nized his  companion.  He  colored  deeply,  and  at  first 
seemed  inclined  not  to  speak  ;  but  better  feelings  gained 
the  ascendancy,  and,  approaching  Herbert,  he  said 
pleasantly, — 

"  You  have  discovered  what  I  do  with  my  young 
birds.  It  does  seem  cruel  to  catch  them,  but  I  try  to 
do  it  as  kindly  as  possible.  I  seldom  take  more  than 
one  from  a  nest,  and  always  watch  the  time  when  the 
old  birds  are  absent,  that  I  may  not  alarm  them. 
The  money  which  I  earn  in  this  way  not  only  defrays 
the  expenses  of  my  education,  but  enables  me  to  assist 
my  poor  mother."  » 

"But  why  were  you  so  secret  about  it?"  asked 
Herbert.  "  Why  did  you  not  tell  us  plainly  for  what 
purpose  you  caught  the  birds  ?  " 

"  My  first  motive  for  secrecy,"  replied  William, 
"Was  to  prevent  thoughtless  and  idle  boys  from  fol- 
lowing my  example,  fearing  that  they  would  not  so 
strictly  endeavor  to  avoid  cruelty.  But  when  you 
questioned  me  on  the  subject,  I  should  have  answered 


180  TWO    SIDES   TO    A    STORY. 

frankly  had  I  not  felt  irritated  by  your  manner,  and 
hurt  that  you  could  suppose  me  capable  of  engaging  in 
such  an  occupation  for  sport." 

"  I  did  wrong,"  replied  Herbert ;  "  as  usual,  my 
judgment  was  too  hasty.  I  ask  your  forgiveness, 
William,  for  my  suspicions ;  but  I  fear  I  have  been 
the  means  of  doing  you  a  great  injury.  I  must  seek 
my  father  without  delay  ;  "  and  thus  saying  he  abruptly 
departed,  leaving  William  much  surprised  at  his  words. 

Mr.  Archer  listened  with  interest  to  Herbert's  story, 
and  yielded  to  his  entreaties  to  go  immediately  to  Mr. 
Morgan,  in  the  hope  that  it  was  not  yet  too  late  to 
repair  the  wrong  which  he  had  done  his  companion. 

When  they  reached  the  house,  Herbert's  impatience 
was  so  great  that  he  could  hardly  wait  until  the  cus- 
tomary salutations  were  exchanged,  before  he  said, 
with  much  earnestness, — 

"Have  you  yet  found  anyone  to  fill  the  place  of 
which  you  spoke  to  me,  Mr.  Morgan  ?  " 

"  I  have  not,  my  young  friend.  It  is  a  more  diffi- 
cult task  than  I  anticipated,  and  sometimes  I  think  I 
will  relinquish  the  plan  altogether." 

"  I  am  so  glad  I  am  not  too  late,"  exclaimed  Her- 
bert joyfully.  "  I  have  come  to  tell  you,  sir,  that 
what  I  related  to  you  of  William  Camden  can  all  be 
explained,  and  I  am  quite  sure  that  he  would  suit  you 
in  every  respect." 


TWO   SIDES   TO   A   STORY.  181 

He  then  gave  Mr.  Morgan  a  full  account  of  the 
whole  affair,  to  which  the  gentleman  listened  with 
much  satisfaction,  and  declared  his  intention  of  calling 
upon  Mrs.  Camden  that  evening. 

"  This  will  be  a  warning  to  you,  my  dear  boy,"  he 
said  to  Herbert,  "  to  judge  less  rashly  of  the  actions 
of  your  friends." 

"  It  will  indeed,  sir,"  was  the  reply.  "  I  have  too 
often  disregarded  these  warnings ;  but  in  future  I  am 
resolved  never  to  forget  that  there  may  be  '  two  sides 

to  a  story.'  " 

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